


My Second Self

by likeabluethread



Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Jane Eyre Fusion, F/M, Gothic, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2018-10-24 11:45:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 73,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10741062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likeabluethread/pseuds/likeabluethread
Summary: Orphaned Kagome is raised by monks in Feudal Japan, and determines to find a way to build an independent life for herself.Jane Eyredone SessKag style. Complete!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My most recent flight of fancy. Apologies for the long first chapter; there's a lot of story to get through before the second half of the main pair can make an appearance. More coming as I get it written!

Looking back on my life now, reader, I barely recognize the person I was so long ago. But if you will lend me your patience, I will tell you a tale.

I don’t remember my early childhood; I was found at the age of three in the shadow of a holy tree in a plague-stricken Shinto shrine, the only apparent survivor. The monks who found me said that there was a woman and an infant, a babe in arms, inside the shrine, both dead. I tried to mourn for them, the mother and brother I would never know, but more often than grief I simply felt loneliness. I belonged to no one, belonged nowhere.

I was raised by the monks in a larger shrine that functioned as something as an orphanage in the region. The leader, Ungai, was a hard man. Bitterly prejudiced against demons, he used his shrine to train a new generation of demon-hunters with spiritual powers. I watched the children who were of no use to him – children without holy powers, children without the stamina to become soldiers – wither in his care, ignored, neglected.

I, on the other hand, was never neglected; Ungai-sama and his monks despised me. I was wild, he told me, like a beast or a demon myself. He hated that I would fight on behalf of the other children and would tell him when I thought he was wrong; he hated that I would accept beatings rather than begging the monks’ forgiveness; he hated the way my hair curled instead of lying flat like a proper woman’s should; he hated the stridency of my voice and my instinctive proficiency with a bow and arrows; he hated that from very young I could sense others’ auras, indicating that someday I might have strong holy powers of my own. He beat me, berated me, and humiliated me, doing everything in his power to break me and turn me into a “correct” woman, like the other girls, demure and self-effacing.

I tried, at first, to conform to his desires, but soon learned that he was right – my wildness would not be tamed. I was incapable of being anything other than my irredeemable self. And I was irredeemable.

As I got older I grew more wary of his temper, more frightened of his brutality, more likely to be silent in the face of abuse than to raise my voice and be punished further – but even then, my wariness did not change my heart. The wildness rose up in my throat just as often as ever it had before; I merely grew better at biting it back in Ungai’s presence. And I learned disdain for the other monks. None of them saw me. They taught me, they yelled at me, they disciplined me, one of them tried to pin me to a tree and pull my hakama open (I bit him, and received the most painful beating of my life for it), but even then – I always felt as though I might as well have been a plank of wood with a face painted on it. Ungai hated me, but it was _me_ he hated; he alone saw me for myself. Given that the only person who knew me for what I was hated me, I learned, deep into my soul, that I was a monster, that no one would ever love me unless I duped them – but still I scorned duplicitousness with all the wild pride in my wild heart. And so, in the absence of love, I treasured his hate.

The other children, for their part, mostly avoided me. I received a few shy smiles and soft thank-yous from people I’d defended, but no one spent much time with me. Looking back on it, I think they were right to shun me – at the time I felt some bitterness, but the monks would surely have lashed out at anyone they saw as my friend. So I grew up without companionship. The boys laughed at my wild hair and loud voice; the girls shrank from me in fear. The older children frowned at me, confused by my resistance to the monks who raised me; the younger children tried not to be like me, seeing how often I was beaten with bamboo canes or – worst of all – with the monks’ staffs with their metal fittings.

I say all this in complaint about my upbringing, but I must also give the shrine the credit that is its fair due; the education we received was exceedingly thorough. The monks taught us skills and ideas wildly beyond what any orphaned peasant might ever hope to learn; expert reading and calligraphy, mathematics, foreign languages, philosophy, history, theories of human behavior, theories of the way the natural world works and explanations for natural miracles ranging from the turning of the seasons to the mathematically-precise curl of a seashell. They taught us about youki, demonic power that lived inside youkai, the demons that shared our world; they taught us about reiki, the holy power that they themselves possessed – the power to extinguish demons. They taught us to think, to evaluate, to assess evidence presented to us and draw educated conclusions. They taught us to question our own assumptions. There, they succeeded, though Ungai would have hated to know how deeply. As I listened to them preach the evils of demons, a doubt grew in my heart. What if “demons are evil” was an assumption to be questioned rather than a natural law to assume will always apply? I knew better than to ask, but the question haunted me, especially when the monks and older children came back from their missions covered with blood.

**

As it happened, my life with the monks changed abruptly around my eighth anniversary at the shrine, when I was eleven. In our weekly archery lesson, I fired an arrow that lit up with holy fire like lightning bolt; the tree it hit exploded into pink flames. Children and monks alike gaped at the wreckage in silence as splinters of wood fell around us like autumn leaves. I was a miko.

From that time on, Ungai began to cultivate me as a tool in his war on demons; I was no longer merely a mind to mold to suit his worldview, but a weapon to hone. And hone me he did, with whetstone and fire. My schooling was cut down to four intense hours every morning, and the rest of every day was devoted to training me, mind and body, as a holy warrior. I learned to moderate my aura to a polite size around me to alert others to my power, or to mask it completely for stealth; to imbue weapons with holy fire that would purify demons into ash; to create barriers; to heal. I could still see that he despised me, but now he had a use for me. Under the monks’ disciplined guidance, my power blossomed beyond their hopes.

I encountered a demon for the first time the following year, when I was brought along on a demon-slaying mission. At twelve, I was by far the youngest to go on one of these trips. About ten other children and I were led to a clearing with a wooden cage in the center, its door bound by a holy sutra. Inside was a terrified-looking fox demon. None of us had ever seen a demon before; I had no idea that some of them looked so human! He looked my age, though I knew from my lessons that he may have been centuries old, given the difference in demon aging. It was the first time I had ever felt a demonic aura against my own; it grated against my soul with a strange electric buzz and made me shiver. 

The monks stood around it, declaring its evil deeds in ringing voices; it had attacked a human village, it had murdered a human family, it had made off with livestock and ruined many livelihoods. As they were declaring its crimes to the world, the fox begged for its freedom, claiming that it was starving, that it had only killed those who had tried to kill it, that it only took the livestock to feed its own family.

Ungai told us to kill it for its crimes against humanity. The other students obeyed without hesitation, raising their bows. I closed my eyes and turned my face away.

When we returned, I could feel Ungai’s cold stare on me at every turn. After a day of miserable suspense, wondering what my punishment would be, I was finally called over to him in a quiet corner of the courtyard while my classmates were drilling with staffs. I knelt before him, trembling. He remained standing, and loomed over me like one of the great forest oaks.

“You did not fire upon the demon,” he said without preamble.

“No, Ungai-sama,” was all I could respond. I waited for him to strike me.

“You are useless in our holy war if you are unable to stomach bloodshed,” he said softly. I was terrified by the promise of violence in the quiet hiss of his words. He watched my face for a moment, eyes stony; I kept my eyes down, not knowing what to say.

“Can you explain your actions to me?” he demanded at last.

“I am sorry for my disobedience, Ungai-sama,” I said quietly, trying to keep my voice from quavering. 

“Explain. Your. Actions.” he repeated through gritted teeth, each word like a slap. My hands were sweating and trembling; I knitted my fingers together tightly and squeezed. The wildness was rising in me; I knew that whatever I was about to say was likely to get me beaten, perhaps worse. I tried to think of something politic, something to say that he would approve of, but all I could think of was the look on the fox child’s face just before he was murdered. And still, Ungai was waiting for an answer.

“The demon was not a threat,” I blurted out at last, looking desperately up at him. “It was caged and subdued, and its crime was a crime of poverty, like so many of us here have known.” I gestured to the yard of orphans, many of whom came to the shrine after childhoods of thievery and foraging. “It was not a threat.” I was repeating myself in my emotion, a demonstration of lack of discipline that I knew Ungai hated. I clamped my lips tight together.  
  
Rather than striking me, though, he squinted down at me with revulsion and frustration on his face. After a long moment, he sighed. “You will accompany me on a three-day mission. Prepare yourself; we leave at dawn.” He strode across the courtyard without another word, while I gaped after him.

**

Our mission, he explained on the road the following morning, was to a neighboring village. The two of us walked side-by-side down a dusty road, him with his staff and its luminous gem bisected by a gold cross, me with my bow and quiver of arrows, our breath forming white clouds in the morning chill. He had received a letter begging for his assistance in subduing a demon that was terrorizing them. A shiver passed through me. This, then, was to be my first combat experience. For most of us, it was not until we were sixteen or so.

We walked all day in silence, and reached the town as the sun was setting. Ungai was greeted with joyful shouts and warm smiles – children ran to tug at his robes and beg him to tell them stories, and the adults came out of their homes to offer us tea and sake. With smiles and kind acknowledgments – so strange on that cold, angry face! – he made our apologies and led me to the house of the village chief.  I was pulled into a fragrant kitchen by friendly arms and handed a bowl of something hot and savory. A number of women clustered around me as I ate, fussing with my hair and cooing over the bruises and scrapes on my arms from training. Overwhelmed, I answered their flurry of questions about my age and my parents and my life with the monks as best I could, taken aback by the gasps and moans of pity and sympathy my words elicited. Finally, confused and exhausted, I was led into a small room where some dozen children already slept peacefully, and shown a futon and warm blanket in the corner. I retreated gratefully into silence. For a brief while I tried to center myself with meditation, but the strangeness of what I had seen kept jarring me out of it. Eventually my exhaustion conquered my nerves, and I slept.

The following morning I woke early and crept silently out from between the other children’s sleeping forms. A woman saw me as I slid the shoji door closed behind me and shepherded me into the kitchen again, where again I was presented with a bowl of hot rice and fresh fish, more flavorful than anything I had ever tasted coming from the monks’ kitchen. I ate ravenously before venturing outside in search of Ungai.

Ungai was meditating in the courtyard of the chief’s house. I knelt silently beside him and tried to soothe my mind into some semblance of order. Meditation had always been difficult for me, but it was the most useful skill I had learned from the monks. I counted my breaths, allowing my mind to clear. I felt my spiritual power blossoming in the emptiness where my thoughts had been, surging in like the sea at high tide.

“Come,” Ungai said when the sun was high. He rose and strode out into the barren fields without looking back. I followed, tripping over my feet in my haste to keep up. It was late winter, and nothing had yet been planted; I was foolishly grateful for that, as I hated the idea of a battle taking place on top of a poor village’s crops.

When we were at the farthest point in the fields from the village, Ungai released his aura. It engulfed me, bringing my own aura roaring up in answer. I gasped, trying desperately to rein in my power, fighting the urge to drop to my knees. I had never felt anything like it before. The monks had released their auras in front of us, mostly to goad a response from our own, but never Ungai, never anyone this strong. His spiritual power was immense.

After a few moments of gasping like a beached fish, I felt a tingle brush the edge of my aura – a buzz, like an electric charge. From the south. At first I could barely sense it, but it grew more insistent by the moment. Youki – demonic energy. The youkai was approaching, lured by Ungai’s power. I nocked an arrow and face south.

The demon that burst through the trees did not look human. It was a boar, bigger than a house, bigger than I had ever imagined any living thing could be. My jaw hung slack. It galloped towards us, horse-sized hooves plowing cavernous divots into the field. Its eyes were red, its tusks stained a dark rust, its every movement indicating fury, frenzy. Before I could collect my wits, he was nearly upon us.

Ungai was better prepared than I. Chanting in a low voice, he cast a paper sutra up in the air, then with a blast of spiritual energy from his palm he sent it flying at the boar’s face. It hit him squarely between the eyes, and the boar froze. How he roared! The earth trembled under my feet with the sound of his fury – but the sutra held. He was immobilized by Ungai’s power. I took a deep breath, and turned in awe to face my teacher.

Ungai was watching my reactions, and had opened his mouth to say something to me, when a blast of youki knocked him off his feet. I whirled to face the boar – it had broken through Ungai’s sutra, and was wielding its spiritual power like in huge writhing tentacle-like whips of rage that lashed the air and left deep furrows in the ground. I could _feel_ its malevolence – it hated me, hated Ungai, hated humans, _hated!_ There was so much hatred in it. Shaking off the last vestiges of the sutra with another burst of youki, it turned its sights on Ungai, who lay motionless on the packed earth some fifty feet from me. It lowered its head like a bull, stamping its feet in preparation for a charge. I couldn’t think; my mind felt sluggish with the weight of my disbelief. Ungai was defeated! He would be killed! I would be killed – then this thing, this monster, would kill the people of the village, who had been so kind to me!

The boar charged. Without thinking, I raised my bow and fired. A holy arrow to his shoulder knocked him off-course – he staggered, then turned to face me. Another arrow, this time to the throat. He took a few steps in my direction, but his charge had lost its terrifying speed. Another arrow. Another. A fifth arrow, and he fell to his front knees. A sixth, and he dissolved into pink fire.

I fired three more arrows into the space where he had been standing before I realized it was over. My bow fell from trembling fingers, and I dropped to my knees on the earth. I covered my face with my hands and wept.

The villagers had been watching the fight, and soon swarmed across the field to us. I was picked up by strong arms and carried, half-insensible, back to the village. On the verge of hysteria, I blocked out their celebrations, their concern, their reassurances, and sank as deep into meditation as I was able. I was dimly aware of being laid out on a futon, of businesslike hands checking my limbs for injury, but my mind did not mark the events. My spiritual power swelled into the void where my thoughts had been. I allowed the sea to wash over me, to overwhelm me.

When I came out of my meditation, it was dusk. I still felt ill and shaky, but no longer like a cracked vessel that would shatter at a touch. I rose, and went in search of the others.

A feast was being held at the chief’s residence. Ungai was there, bandaged and pale, but alive – and clearly the guest of honor. I slipped silently in and took my place, kneeling at his elbow. He glanced over at me momentarily, then visibly dismissed me and turned his attention back to the food and company. The villagers were telling stories of the havoc the boar had caused – it had ruined their crop last summer, leading to many deaths by starvation over the winter. It had trampled all of the young men who had tried to fight it. It destroyed a house, killing the family that was trapped inside, including two small children. There was nothing to mourn. A monster, a menace, an evil had been dispatched. At some point I realized I was ravenous, and ate, though I don’t remember what; at some point not long after I realized I was exhausted, and slipped silently away to restless dreams. 

**

That was not the last demon-hunt that Ungai chose me for. Time after time, I was chosen for wildly difficult hunts, ones where the demons were mad with power-lust or fury, where they were mowing down innocents and destroying whole towns. But there were many more missions I was not chosen for. I wondered if Ungai suspected my doubts about the nature of youkai, if he was choosing me only for the missions that would affirm his teachings. While I killed many youkai, I was never faced with another demon like the one who had begged for his freedom from the wicker cage. They were all like beasts – incapable of speech, incapable of thought beyond the instinct to kill before they were killed. I knew there had to be others.

I grew, in age, in stature, and in power. By the time I was fifteen, Ungai’s spiritual power no longer overwhelmed me when he released it. By the time I was sixteen, my spiritual power could overwhelm his, though the whipping I received when I discovered that discouraged me from releasing my power in full ever again.

Despite my power – or because of it – the monks respected me, feared me even, but never fully trusted me. I was never asked to lead any of the missions; others went out protecting villages and slaying demons, but I stayed in the monastery. It suited me well. I found that for all my aptitude for war, my doubts about the justice of our actions prevented me from being the great demon-slayer the monks wanted me to be. That realization was chagrining, but also liberating. I was set to training the younger students, teaching archery and staff-fighting as well as meditation and spiritual exercises like healing, barrier-creation, and imbuing objects with holy power. I soon discovered that I loved teaching. The younger children did not fear me; they ran to my lessons with smiling faces and dedicated minds, and I watched their progress with a heart that felt too big for my body. For the first time in my life I felt loved, needed. That feeling was the greatest treasure I had ever known.

At eighteen, my training complete, I was turned loose on the world with nothing to my name but the clothes on my back and a bow and quiver of arrows, which I was to use in my holy crusade. Ungai took me aside the day before and told me to travel north, where he had heard of a village that was in need of a priestess. There I could serve out my purpose, a respectable miko in a respectable village, defending them from marauding youkai and healing the sick. It would, he said with what appeared to be an attempt at kindness, be very much like my life here.  

That night, however, one of the younger girls had come to me whispering rumors from her home village: there was a great lord to the west who was seeking a tutor for his young ward, an unruly mute child whom a dozen tutors had tried to teach and abandoned in despair. If anyone could help the child, she told me with heart-rending earnestness, I could. I considered her words with something like hope beating its wings inside my chest. The position would allow me freedoms not admitted to a village miko; I would be paid, and might eventually become independent if I saved wisely. And I would be able to teach. Her message and stuttering directions to the castle delivered, the little girl had thrown her arms around me and began to weep quietly into my stomach. My home at the shrine had not always been a happy one, but it was still the only home I had ever known, and the other students were like sisters to me. At the same time – freedom. I had a momentary vision of true freedom: no one to tell me my voice was too loud, my opinions too strident, my hair too wild, my spiritual power too strong. But then my heart plummeted, and I found myself clutching harder at the little girl sobbing into me. I knew better, I chastised myself. I would never escape those strictures. The lord I would serve would be no different. No one would ever accept me as I was. I would spend my whole life choking back my words, controlling my aura, smiling and bowing and screaming inside.

But I didn’t have to do it _here_ , nor did I have to let Ungai dictate where and how I lived my life.

I left the monastery the next morning with my head high, and turned westward rather than north. And if I shed tears for the sisters I left behind, there was no one there to mock me for it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next installment! I'm hoping to settle into a roughly once-a-week posting schedule from here on out. See you next weekend!

I turned my back to the watery light of the rising sun and headed into the woods, stopping only when I was too exhausted to continue on. It was early winter – cold, with the threat of frost, but still early enough that the animals were busily lining their nests and stocking their winter larders. Once I hunted and built a fire to roast my rabbit on, but for the most part I ignored my hunger and pressed westwards. I slept in the lower branches of trees, my aura stretched out and seeking threats even in my sleep, but nothing approached me.

After three long days, I came to a walled castle. It loomed over the surrounding forest, its many gabled roofs overlapping like the branches of a mighty pine. The gate was closed tight, the horned doorway making it look like a bull spirit – wary, waiting. I approached, apprehension skittering down the back of my neck. I was so awed by the castle the I did not note any warning prickles at my aura.

Two guards leapt from atop the wall and crashed to the ground in front of me, their nonchalant grace more terrifying than the spears they held to my throat. At this close range, their auras buzzed against mine with an unmistakable electric charge; they were youkai. They were youkai? This was a demon house! My heart somersaulted; I didn’t know whether to feel horrified or fascinated.

“Declare your purpose,” one of them growled, his posture low and threatening. His skin was a rich, dark chestnut, and his slate-grey hair was cropped short against his skull. His eyes were a pale grey that looked like a far-off stormcloud.

“I have heard that the lord here seeks a tutor for his ward. I have come to offer my services.” My eyes flicked to the other guard. His hair was an untamed shock of calico, patches of brown and black and red and gold against bone-pale skin, and his eyes were a blue so dark they were almost black. He was baring his teeth at me in a savage grimace. Both of them looked so inhuman I nearly shuddered.

“Our lord will not allow a miko to reside in his shiro. Move along.” It was again the grey-haired one who spoke; he seemed to be in command.

“Will your lord not wish to make that decision himself?” I demanded, a confidence in my voice that belied the trembling of my knees. “Or does he delegate the staffing of his household to the guards of his front door?”

They snarled in terrifying unison. For a fraction of an instant I stood with their spears at my throat, expecting them to kill me. Then my stubbornness, my wildness, welled up inside me; I was a demon-hunter! I would not simply allow myself to die at the hands of a pair of strange youkai who were posturing in an attempt to intimidate me. My aura flared up around me – just a bit, just enough for a warning display. It was enough. Both youkai leapt back as though burned, their own auras rising in response. They were no match for me, and all three of us now knew it. I was no longer afraid.

“I wish to speak to your lord,” I said quietly, reining my aura back in. The guards exchanged uncertain glances. 

“Stand down,” came a squawk form behind them. They stiffened and the one in command glared, but both retreated without complaint. A small green youkai, barely as tall as my knee and carrying a two-headed staff more than double his own height, waddled forward and looked appraisingly at me over his beak.

“You seek employment in the House of the Moon?” he asked, tapping his staff against the earth. “State your qualifications.”

“Fifteen years’ study under the tutelage of the monk Ungai and his followers; I have thorough training in reading and writing, history, literature, science and mathematics, Classical Chinese, philosophy, and rhetoric.” I tried to remember to keep my eyes demurely down, but my heart was still hammering in by throat and I was dizzy with adrenaline and hunger. It took most of my strength to get the words out without trembling.

“Ungai and his ilk are no friend to youkai,” he said matter-of-factly, inclining his head at my bow. “You are miko. You are aware that this is a demon stronghold, and that your lord will be a daiyoukai?”

I will admit, reader, that here I had my first moment of doubt. I had spent my whole life being trained as a demon-hunter, as a demon-hater. Could I serve a demon-lord? But one thing drove me more than my apprehension, more even than the driving curiosity that had me burning to learn more about intelligent demons; dogged, willful rebellion. I refused to obey Ungai’s orders any longer. I would find anything to do other than becoming a village miko, living a safe and sanctified life with no chance of learning more about the world I lived in.

“I hold no ill-will towards youkai, nor do I fear them,” I answered at last. He squinted at me a moment longer, then turned and began to waddle back into the castle. I stared after him with fear and disappointment running cold through my veins.

Halfway to the door he turned and looked over his shoulder. “Are you coming or not?” he squawked impatiently. “Keep up, human; my lord has no patience for incompetence.”

I gasped and scurried after him, my attempts at dignity forgotten. The guards scowled blackly, but leapt back up to their posts atop the wall without any further complaint.

The castle was in the new style, tall and imposing, and set on a base of near-vertical stone ramparts. The graceful lines of the alternating roofs and pediments spoke of impeccable taste and almost unimaginable wealth. I could see a hint of gardens behind the building itself, as well, and a few smaller outbuildings. It was mind-bogglingly huge, even compared to the most lavish of the mansion houses I’d seen on my missions. They were all in the old style, a rectangular courtyard surrounded by single-story buildings and corridors; this was a mountain. But all the windows were dark, and there was a silence about the place that unnerved me. It felt cold, abandoned. Empty.

He led me through the bare courtyard and into the silent castle, where watery sunlight filtering in through narrow windows allowed me to pick my cautious way after him, but left most of the house itself in shadow. My guide spoke briskly and left no room for interruptions. “My name is Jaken, and I am the regent of the lord of the western lands. You have not been hired; my lord has a deep and well-earned distrust for mikos, and may well refuse you, though I can sense no malice in your aura. My lord is away on patrol, as he often is. If you are permitted to remain, you will see little of him, but when you do you are to remain silent until spoken to, and to treat him with the utmost respect. Ungai is no friend to us, as you know, but his pupils are well-known for their strong scholarship and unshakable discipline; I doubt my lord will hold your background against you if you have the fortitude to wish to reside in a demon house.” Bulging yellow eyes slanted over at me. “My lord’s ward is a ... spirited young woman, who requires a firm hand. The youkai tutors we have employed have had little success corralling her wandering interest or encouraging her to speak.”

“I had been told that the lord’s ward was mute,” I found myself interrupting. I almost clapped my hands over my mouth in horror; I should not be addressing him so cavalierly! Would he turn me away for my rudeness?

Rather than scolding me, though, Jaken let out a honk of laughter. “I am unsurprised that such a rumor exists. She is generally silent in the company of strangers, but not incapable of speech; when my lord returns, you will hear her chatter like a brook in spring. Indeed you’ll wish him to go away again just to have a moment’s peace.”

Laughter and chatter seemed wildly out of place in the funerary atmosphere of the house. We had climbed from floor to floor, occasionally passing through labyrinthine corridors marked by finely carved doorposts and elaborately painted shoji screens, only to reach another stair. Without Jaken, I would have been hopelessly lost – and every room was dark and quiet, and very cold. The demonic auras even of the guards felt far away now.

Hoping it wasn’t unbearably rude, I sent unobtrusive, searching tendrils of my aura through the house, seeking any other signs of life. The only aura close by was the one plodding placidly by my side. Coming as I did from the lively commotion of a busy shrine, the solitude was unsettling. I shivered.

Since I had not been reprimanded for my boldness before, I decided to risk another question.

“Do the guards not live in the house?”

“No. Sesshoumaru-sama likes his privacy,” came the dismissive reply. “He allows a few faithful servants to remain in his house, but the guards are quartered in barracks some mile or so away. Within easy distance of a shout, but not ... underfoot.”

“Easy distance?” I gasped. “A mile –”

“Youkai,” he interrupted impatiently. “They are youkai, miko. And inuyoukai – dogs – have the keenest senses of smell and hearing of any. And are swift enough that a mile is a matter of seconds.”

I digested this bit of information in silence. I had so much to learn! But there was one thing I didn’t want to allow to slip past. I gathered my courage. “Kagome,” I said quietly, but determined to make myself heard. “My name is Kagome.” The house’s silence waited behind my words and wound around us like a living thing, heavy and inexorable.

Yellow eyes slanted over at me again. “Indeed. Welcome to the House of the Moon, Kagome-sama. For however long you stay.”

**

Jaken showed me first to a small room on perhaps the third floor, dim and a bit dusty, but finely-furnished. He informed me that it was to be my sleeping chamber, and would be tidied and have a fire lit by the time I returned from meeting my charge. I bowed in thanks, trying not to let my awe show on my face as I lay my bow and quiver down near the futon. I had never had a room of my own before. 

Squawking impatiently over his shoulder, he drew me away. Through another labyrinth of stairs, we finally arrived at a magnificent library, so full of scrolls that I nearly missed the little black-haired child kneeling at a low table and practicing clumsy calligraphy.

“Rin!” Jaken barked, making the little girl start and bolt to her feet, upsetting her over-full ink stone and sending a brush clattering across the table. Jaken clucked in annoyance. “Look at the mess you’ve made, stupid girl. I’ll have to have this table scoured.” Still muttering, he waved a grumpy hand in the little girl’s direction and left the two of us in the library. Even as Jaken’s aura receded, however, another appeared; there was a demon standing just outside the door of the library. Their aura pressed at me, insistent and defiant, and it required active discipline to keep my own from rising in answer. Whomever it was wanted me to know that they were watching, that I was not trusted. For a moment I wondered how long I would be kept under guard, but I soon determined to ignore them as best I could and concentrate on the child.

“Hello,” I said softly, crouching and sitting on my heels. From that vantage point I could see her well; she was perhaps six or seven, and had a shock of unkempt black hair and wide, frightened-looking brown eyes. She looked far too serious for a child her age, despite her cheerful orange and yellow checked kimono. Strangest of all, she had no demonic aura. The demon-lord’s ward was ... human? “My name is Kagome. What is your name?”

The little girl shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut tight. Her fingers gripped the edge of the table so hard her little knuckles went white. My heart ached for her.

“That’s all right; you don’t have to tell me. Jaken called you Rin; may I call you Rin as well?”

She nodded once, a single off-center ponytail bobbing. Her eyes opened cautiously. I smiled as warmly as I could, still making no moves.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Rin-chan. May I see what you’re working on?”

Another cautious nod. She turned to look at her practice scroll, then made a soft noise of dismay to find that the spilled ink had all but destroyed her work. Her face was such a study of mortification and disappointment that I had to bite back a laugh.

“It’s all right, Rin-chan; I can see that you have been working very hard. Let’s get this cleaned up, then start a fresh scroll, OK?”

Decisive nod. She scampered out of the room, returning a moment later with a bundle of rags, and with no further direction she quickly wiped up the spilled ink, collected a fresh scroll from a cubby in the wall, located her brush, wiped it off, and returned it to its lacquered box, and began assiduously grinding fresh ink into her newly-righted ink box. I smiled. Perhaps teaching her would not be easy, but she seemed as eager to please as any child I’d ever encountered. 

After an hour or so of calligraphy practice, Jaken came to fetch us for dinner. Dinner, I was told, was a quiet affair taken in the castle’s kitchens, unless the lord was home. The kitchens were in the ground floor of an out-building that sat next to the main castle like a chick in its mother’s shadow. In striking contrast to the main castle, it was warm, well-lit, and bustling. I breathed in the smell of wood smoke and good food, and found it easy to forget the darkness and silence of the empty castle.

An elderly couple, Katsura and Mayumi, appeared to be the only servants granted free rein of the house of the moon, and they seemed to spend most of their time around the big brick oven with its myriad pots suspended over it. Mayumi was a plump, personable russet-haired wolf demon, and a healer, as it happened; she explained that many of the things cooking weren’t food but medicines for the lord’s stocks, since winter was coming and they would be freely shared by all denizens of the western lands. She served as a sort of housekeeper in addition to being the healer. She introduced me to her mate with a sideways glance that held some measure of defiance in it. Meeting a mated pair of demons was overwhelming enough for me, though; the strangeness wasn’t increased by their both being females. I recognized the press of her mate Katsura’s aura right away – she was the one who had kept vigil during Rin’s lessons in the library. She was a taciturn and grave-looking salt-and-pepper dog-demon, tall, muscled, and imposing. Mayumi explained in an aside to me that Katsura handled most of the castle’s repairs and kept up the garden, as well as serving as both cook and something a bodyguard for Rin in the rare times that called for one. But even the daunting Katsura couldn’t suppress a smile at Rin’s grateful hug as we sat down to dinner, and after half an hour of my earnest but graceless pleasantries, she even went so far as to offer me a second helping of her excellent cooking. I liked the absent lord’s taste in retainers.

After dinner, Mayumi lit an oil lamp, slipped a stretched paper shade over it, and led Rin and me back up through the dark corridors of the castle. They had placed me in a room just down the hall from my charge’s. My room was now brightly lit with a cheerful fire and fresh linens on the bed, and looked more like a home than anything I had ever seen. After a lifetime of sharing space with dozens of other children and monks, this privacy, this luxury, felt like a dream. Blinking back unbidden tears, I bowed in thanks to a confused-looking Mayumi, who silently shepherded Rin off to bed and left me alone.

I stepped into my room – _my room_ , I thought again in wonder – and slid the door shut behind me. Something reflected a flash of firelight as I turned towards the bed. On edge, I had a momentary panic that there was some demon trap waiting for me, but no – it was nothing but an innocent bronze circle with a handle on the low table by the futon. I crossed the room and knelt beside the table to have a better look. One side was ornately carved with a majestic dog, its fur swirling like smoke; turning it over, I found that the other side was polished to a sheen so perfect that my own eyes looked back at me. They were ... blue. They were blue? I’d had no idea. I held the mirror back a bit, to see my whole face. How strange I looked! I had seen my face before, of course, but only wavy reflections in water or the edge of a blade. I was not beautiful; that much came as no surprise. But how strange I looked – so young, so frightened. I shivered, and placed the mirror carefully back onto the table, face down. Such a treasure, to put into a servant’s room! My mind reeled at the wealth that little gesture implied.

As I sat on the edge of the futon, I drew a deep, shuddering breath and tried not to let the enormity of my decisions overwhelm me. I was in a house of demons. A priestess, a demon-slayer in the house of a demon-lord. I shook my head. No, I was a tutor in a house with a child who needed tutoring. That was all. Determined not to think myself into a crisis, I readied myself for bed, and meditated until the emptiness where my thoughts had been was overtaken by sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Life at the House of the Moon was unlike anything I had experienced before, but the human mind has a remarkable capacity to adapt – and adapt I did. Despite a tour from Jaken on my second day – which veered precipitously between effusive praise for his master’s taste and impatience at my insufficient awe – I needed Rin’s help to find my way for nearly a week. My legs, which ached for days from the strain of so many stairs, grew accustomed to bearing me up and down to the various parts of my new home. And eventually, I accustomed myself to the levels of the house: the library on the seventh floor, where Rin and I sat most mornings for lessons; endless formal halls and meeting places and dining rooms and guest quarters; an exquisite expanse of gardens, though it was too cold now to explore them thoroughly; a dojo in a large outbuilding adjacent to the wall, to which I had unrestricted access and so maintained my strict training regimen; a hot spring hidden toward the back of the gardens, where I was permitted to bathe as often as I chose. That was a treasure I had never dreamed of – a subtle stone wall that looked like a natural formation until you found the clever little gate, and beyond it was a series of steaming pools. Rin and I took to spending many evenings there together.

Most of what was impressed upon me about my new home, though, was that I was never to venture above the library; the lord’s quarters were on the eighth floor, and the top floors of the shiro were forbidden. Even without the top floors, though, I was overwhelmed by the strange quiet of the place. There was so much space! There were so few people! I had never really experienced privacy before, and while Rin was a pleasant enough companion, she still didn’t speak. Jaken was busy doing his master’s work, and I rarely saw him; when I did, he wanted to speak of nothing but boasts of his absent lord’s virtues and insistence that I must never expect to be noticed by so lofty as person as the lord of the West. Katsura and Mayumi clearly disapproved of their master’s ward spending too much time fraternizing with servants, and kept to themselves except at mealtimes. I was in an odd in-between place, it seemed, neither servant nor master. They appeared to have great respect for my work, but spoke to me with more openness than they did to Rin or Jaken who commanded greater reverence. But even as they grew to trust me – Mayumi’s hospitality warming into motherly kindness, and Katsura’s reticence giving way to a kind of conspiratorial impertinence – I knew that I could not fall into the trap of thinking them my friends. They did not see me as one, and I could not reciprocate. I was to have no real confidantes in the House of the Moon. 

Even so, I found some measure of happiness; having never had a true confidante, the lack had little practical effect on me. And everything I needed had been provided for me. I had been given a few changes of clothes – simple kimonos and, at my request, hakama and gi to train in. I had ample food. Jaken had promised me that at the end of a month I would receive my first wage – my first step on the road to a life of my own choosing.

Eventually, I fell into a comfortable rhythm. I would rise early, far earlier than Rin, and train for a few hours in the dojo. Rin would join me for breakfast in the kitchens, then we would adjourn to the library for lessons. We would go down for lunch when the sun was high, then (with Jaken’s wary approval) I took the liberty of spending an hour or two teaching Rin some basic katas and defensive postures in the dojo. We would study for an hour or two more, then I saw to it that she had a few hours to herself before supper every evening, most of which she spent in the gardens, even bare as they were in winter. I remembered how I had cherished the little time I had on my own when I was her age, and aside from seeing to it that she was dressed warmly enough, I made no attempt to corral her behavior during those intervals. I was determined to do my best by her – by my own standards, since I had no idea what the lord expected of me, and the monks’ approach was singularly ill-suited to a child who lived her life surrounded by demons. If I did everything in my power to craft a happy, healthy, thoughtful adult out of this child, then the demon-lord could retain me or fire me at his discretion – no matter the outcome, I would have the satisfaction of knowing I had been true to myself.

As for the child herself, I had few complaints about Rin as a pupil. It seemed to me that she had been ill-treated by previous tutors, hence perhaps why she had acquired a reputation for being difficult. Once, I raised my hand too suddenly to point to something on her scroll, and her flinch told me much. But with some gentle handling of her nervous temperament and a few outlets for her substantial energy, she soon proved to be an assiduous worker, and made rapid progress in her work. Indeed, after I instituted both the afternoon exercise and frequent breaks in our morning lessons to walk out on the balconies that wrapped around the upper stories of the castle, she maintained focus better than many of the children I had taught at the shrine. As we walked, I would tell her the names of the types of clouds we could see, or explain why rain fell, or detail the sun’s ornate path through the heavens, or outline the life cycle of the mighty trees in the forest below us, so the time was not lost. She was particularly diligent at practicing her writing, despite – or perhaps because of – her reticence to speak. Once I drew a scroll from the wall of the library and found it to be in Classical Chinese – not a native Japanese _kanbun_ composition, but a true Chinese original. Rin bounced on her toes by my elbow until I sat with her and translated it as best I could. She insisted on trying out the Chinese calligraphy as well, though I could not convince her to try to speak the words. Her enthusiasm warmed my heart, and I dedicated a bit of each day to Chinese from that point on. Indeed, the only complaint I had about Rin’s progress was that it was sometimes hard to asses, since I could not quiz her verbally as readily as I liked. Still, she wrote summaries of many of our lessons as her calligraphy practice, so I did not press her. Perhaps when she truly trusted me, she would speak.

I frequently reassured Jaken that despite all the time I spent with Rin in the dojo, I had no interest in making a warrior of her – but to her surprise as well as my own, she enjoyed the time tremendously. She soon began to race me to the dojo for our afternoon practice. As with her studies, what she lacked in aptitude she made up for in diligence. Before long, it seemed to me that she even walked with more confidence and grace.

I also did what I could to teach her manners and dignity, though I felt a fraud when I tried. I hoped desperately that I was not instilling in her the wildness that made me so reviled by the humans I had known. My behavior was never corrected in the House of the Moon, though, and I wondered too if I was becoming more wild without human influence. Perhaps Rin kept me civilized? I needed to be the best example to her that I could. But even if I did not always manage fashionable levels of demureness and diffidence, I could teach her to treat others with respect and kindness, and she certainly didn’t need lessons in speaking softly.

***

The death-like silence of the house was constant, pervasive, and impossible to overlook; in a way the house had its own somber personality, the other implacable tenant in the landscape of my life. I soon learned, however, that the house’s silence hid many surprises.

One day in my third week in the House of the Moon, Rin and I were working in the library when a crash shook the walls and something that sounded like a bear crashing through underbrush came from the stairs that led up to the lord’s chambers. I leaped to my feet in terror, shoving Rin roughly behind me. Before I could make a move, a woman’s form came hurtling down the stairs and landed with a painful-sounding thud in the door of the library.

For a moment I gaped, unable to move. There was another person? A human! And more than just a human – she was … a miko? She was wearing the traditional white kimono jacket and red hakama of a shinto priestess. As she slowly righted herself, I regained my senses and rushed over to offer my help. She was an old woman, I saw, portly, with long grey hair tied into an unkempt ponytail and a black eyepatch over her right eye.

“Forgive me, miko-sama,” I offered as I helped her to her feet. “I was very startled. Are you injured?”

She yanked her elbow out of my grasp with enough force to knock me a step back and all but growled at me. Up close, I could see from her mottled complexion that she drank too much sake; indeed, she smelled of it even now. Her aura was muddy with drink and carried a deep imprint of resentment and misery, as though she had never experience another emotion. When I met her gaze again, her one good eye was glaring at me with such ferocious hatred and disgust that I stumbled back away from her. Before I could say anything more, though, Jaken appeared from the upper floor, studiously avoiding my gaze.

“Come now, Kaede-sama, back to your post,” was all he said, his officiousness singularly ill-suited to soothing or persuading. He bustled her out of the library and guided her back up the stairs, tiny form almost comical next to her bulk. She glared, but in the end she gave a grunt of acquiescence and allowed herself to be shepherded upstairs.

I gaped after them, then turned to Rin with wide eyes. Rin took my hand and tugged me back into the library, sliding the shoji door shut behind us. When I knelt in front of the table again, she knelt beside me and looked between me and the door twice, eyes wide and serious.

“Kaede-sama frightens Rin,” she whispered at last, the first words I heard from her mouth.

I shuddered, feeling suddenly like there were spiders on the back of my neck. I opened my mouth to ask her what she meant, why she was frightened, who this strange miko was and where she lived and why she was up in the forbidden levels of the castle, but Rin’s big eyes met mine, and she shook her head pleadingly. My questions died before I asked them, and she did not speak again.

**

After dinner that night, I wasn’t quite ready to face the suddenly-eerie solitude of my quarters, and while Mayumi took Rin off to bed I remained in the kitchen chatting with Katsura. I couldn’t help but tell her what had happened that morning.

She shook her head, swinging muddy booted feet up onto a low stool.  “Hoo, that must have been a shock! Not to even know she was there, then thump! she’s right at your feet. Why my lord keeps her here is anyone’s guess,” she grumbled, shifting uncomfortably and accepting a cup of hot sake from Mayumi, who’d returned just as I was finishing my story. “She’s drunk half the time, and gets double the salary of those of us as do hard work. And she’s a miko, too, could purify us in our bed if she wanted.” Seeming to realize I was still there, she nodded apologetically in my direction. “Beg your pardon, Kagome-sama; of course you know I don’t feel that way about you. But that aura of hers makes my skin crawl.”

Mayumi smacked her on the shoulder hard enough to make her grunt. “Enough of that,” she chastised. “She does important work for the young lord; that’s all we need to know.” She turned to me and shrugged. “That’s all any of us knows about her, really; the lord needs her for important work. She’s been living here for nigh on fifty years, up on the topmost floor, above the lord’s own rooms – but it’s easy enough to forget about her most days; she keeps her scent and aura hidden. She shouldn’t bother you further.” She returned to her pot, and muttered quietly, “Unless she gets her hands on another bottle of the lord’s sake.”

I shifted uncomfortably, not sure where to look. I had been lulled into feeling almost at home in the castle; and yet suddenly I was reminded just how so strange and out of place I really was. There was another human – another _miko_ – living in the castle with me! In a castle held by a lord who explicitly distrusted humans, and mikos in particular. Remembering her suspicious eye and the wreckage decades of drink and anger had left on her physical and spiritual countenance, I knew I shouldn’t mourn her as a companion lost. Still, the episode unsettled me, more than I cared to admit. What in the world could she be doing, hiding alone in the upper levels of the house? What other secrets did this castle hold?

I shook my head to clear my errant thoughts. Katsura quirked an eyebrow at me. “Wondering what you’ve landed in, are you, miko-sama?” she asked, a hint of teasing in her tone. At my startled glance, she added, “Even without demon senses, you are easy to read, child – everything you think shows on your face.”

I let out a rueful laugh, then decided to be bolder than was my wont. “In that case, you won’t be surprised by any of the questions I have! Tell me, then – what of your lord?”

Katsura blinked. “What of him?”

“What kind of person is he?”

She laughed, a low, gravelly sound I had never heard before. “Heavens, child, you’ve become such a part of the house here I’d forgotten you hadn’t met him yet! Oh, that will be a meeting to remember.”

Mayumi pressed cup of hot sake into my hands, lips pursed disapprovingly at her mate’s flippancy.

“The young lord is a great man,” she cut in, “like his sire before him.”

“With a good deal of his dam as well,” Katsura added, something cheeky in her tone. She leaned towards me and whispered conspiratorially, “They’re both stone-cold arrogant ass--”

“Katsura!” Mayumi thundered. Katsura shrank back, her shoulders rising defensively, but sent me a little wink even so. Mayumi shook her head in disbelief. I hid a smile behind my cup, taking a sip of the sake. It burned down my throat and sent lovely tendrils of warmth down to my toes. I shivered.

“The young lord is a great man,” Mayumi repeated. “His skill in battle is unparalleled; his strength is utterly without peer. The people of the West call him ‘The Killing Perfection,’ and seldom has a nickname been more apt. He is … perfection. Strength, skill, stealth, grace. If he is perhaps a bit haughty, that is no more than he has earned.” She shot Katsura a glare, which softened with affection at her mate’s unapologetic grin.

“What of his … his personality?” I asked, drawn into this image of an arrogant, battle-hardened demon lord. “What is he like to talk to?” Mayumi pursed her lips, seeming to have a hard time finding the right words. I felt that perhaps she was looking to cast a positive light on a negative truth, and glanced at Katsura. She arched an eyebrow at me but remained resolutely silent, seeming to enjoy her mate’s discomfiture. 

“He has the reputation of being cold,” Mayumi said at last, “and it’s true that he has little patience for empty chatter and platitudes. But his intellect is formidable, and his taste beyond reproach.”

That suited the picture I had drawn of him in my mind’s eye. Formidable. Cruel, cold, arrogant. A finely-honed weapon. I wondered if I would finally meet evidence of the monks’ views on demon-kind.

“He has a miko in his employ,” I started, not sure how to frame the question that was brewing in my mind.

“Ah—you would do well not to make inferences from that,” Mayumi rushed out, looking anxious. “My lord has no fondness for humans. If Kaede-sama were not indispensable to him …” She trailed off, then shook her head. “He despises her, and the necessity of keeping her here, though he would never say such a thing out loud.”

“He has a human ward,” I pointed out, frowning. What was a human-hater doing with _three_ humans in his home?

“Rin is … something of an abberation,” Mayumi answered with an uncomfortable shrug. “The young lord has never spoken of what drew them together, but since he was a child he has despised humans. He has always seen them as vastly inferior to demon-kind, and has no use for them or their petty squabbles.” 

I tried not to take offense. “In that case, I wonder why in the world Jaken-sama decided on me as a tutor for Rin.”

Katsura coughed. “Your arrival came at a good time,” she explained a little sheepishly. “The young lord had departed nearly a month before, just after another tutor had stormed out in disgust. Jaken-sama was in very real danger of being strung up by his webbed toes if he didn’t find another tutor by the time my lord returned. And … well, my lord’s journeys are unpredictable. He might be back tomorrow, or it may be another three months before we see him again. I believe our froggy little dictator was growing somewhat desperate.”

I smiled wryly. That fit, both with Jaken’s officious obsequiousness and with the alarming picture I was getting of the ‘young lord.’

“You speak of him as the ‘young lord’” I pointed out on a whim. “How old is he?” 

Mayumi’s smile had a hint of nostalgia in it. “A person will always seem young to those who knew his sire as a childless youth. The lord is now…” She looked appraisingly towards Katsura, who shrugged. “Perhaps around his eight hundredth year – not more than eight hundred and fifty, certainly.” When my jaw dropped, she laughed aloud. “And now, human-sama, you may begin to see why my lord sees human lives as rather inconsequential. Katsura and I are both past our two thousandth year; we served the young lord’s father before him. We tended to the young lord when his mother returned to her own people. We helped him build this castle some hundred years ago, to commemorate his taking up the mantle of the West on his father’s death. He is in his prime now, still young and hale but out of adolescence and into adulthood – though to us he will always be a pup.”

My mind reeled. I knew intellectually that demons aged on a different scale than humans, but – I was speaking to a pair of two-thousand-year-old people! A demon of more than eight hundred seemed to be considered not much older than I was! … save that the sum-total of my life would be a day in his. I wondered again what kind of cold, human-hating demon would adopt a child as warm and affectionate as Rin, when she would be less than a summer blossom in his long lifetime. The servants’ account of the lord was terrifying, yes, in many ways – but despite my trepidation, some part of me looked forward to meeting him.


	4. Chapter 4

Winter was soon upon us in earnest, and Rin and I curtailed our morning walks on the balcony in favor of huddling with our knees under the embroidered skirt of a heated table in the library. Rin and I both felt the loss keenly; fresh air and the majestic views from the seventh floor had become a staple of our lessons. The snows came far too soon.  

Rin still needed rests from studying in order to maintain her attention, however, so when at some point she lost focus on my teaching and idly painted a flower on a blank scroll, I encouraged her. The library contained a whole section of art, and I was delighted to pull it out and begin exploring it with her. In order to make her feel less scrutinized and more free to experiment, I drew out a plain scroll and began painting as well.

The feeling was strange. When I was around Rin’s age, I had been beaten for painting a picture – a pine tree covered by snow, I will never forget it – and for a month following, the monks forced me to do all my drills in the margins of other students’ completed scrolls so that I understood how precious the resource was. To waste a piece of paper – to use it for something as frivolous as drawing for pleasure, for _entertainment_ – felt wildly transgressive, almost immoral. But when I mentioned to Jaken that it was my plan to do it every morning, he merely nodded and asked if doubling the number of blank scrolls allotted for Rin’s lessons would be sufficient. With the next pile of blank scrolls, too, came a pair of lacquered boxes full of pigments, though a flushing Jaken denied knowledge of them when I tried to thank him.

So I painted with her, every morning. My paintings were hesitant at first; I tried very hard to be good, to make compelling likenesses. I copied paintings from the masters whose scrolls lined the walls – waterfalls, bridges, mountains, birds, branches of cherry blossoms. In the end, though, Rin was my true inspiration. Her painting was so free and unencumbered, so unselfconscious, that I determined to abandon all thoughts of proficiency and simply enjoy myself. I soon found that I could lose myself in painting as I had never had in anything else. More than once I had to force myself to put away my painting to resume lessons when it was time; once I forgot about lessons entirely and we both painted until lunch time, to my lasting chagrin. I began dedicating many of my evenings to painting, as well, sometimes working on a single painting for more than a week at a time.

I painted what I could see, first: the treeline visible from the library window, the library itself with Rin reclining at the other end of the table, a vase of pine boughs and berries left for us by Mayumi. Since no one would ever see my work, though, I eventually began to paint dreams and fantasies as well. I had never … _indulged_ myself in quite that way before. It was almost frightening how deeply I loved it.

Rin and I grew closer. She still did not speak more than a rare quiet “yes” or “no,” but she ran to greet me every morning with her face wreathed in smiles, and took my hand more freely than she ever had before. Once I even heard her humming to herself as she painted. My heart soared, and a few of the doubts of whether or not I was serving her well evaporated.

**

One evening, as Rin and I were finishing up our afternoon lessons, I slid open the library’s shoji doors and nearly tripped over Jaken.

“Ah!” I cried, pressing a hand to my heart. “Jaken-sama, forgive me – you startled me. Are you well?”

“Fine, miko,” he honked, gesturing dismissively to Rin, who gladly darted past him and out into the hallway for her free time before dinner.

“Rin, put on at least two more layers if you’re going to go outside,” I called after her, over Jaken’s head. She spun and nodded, hopping backwards on one foot for a few steps, before whirling again and disappearing down the stairs. I shook my head, worrying – as I often did – that my own wildness was making Rin’s even worse. She was happier, certainly, but no more of a lady now than when I arrived! 

Coming back to myself, I looked down at Jaken, who was regarding in impatient silence. Now that he had my eye, he grimaced and jerked his chin towards the library. “In, miko,” he snapped. “We have an important matter to discuss.”

With my best attempt at a deferential bow, I retreated back into the library. As Jaken settled himself at the kotatsu, I scrambled to tidy up, quickly gathering up the scrolls from Rin’s evening lesson and piling up the books and library scrolls to be returned to their places. That done, I sank down opposite the House of the Moon’s regent and waited for him to speak.

“Miko,” he started, seeming momentarily reluctant to continue. I bit back an irritable reminder that I had a name. Jaken _never_ spoke to me unless it was unavoidable, though, so I had no doubt that whatever the topic, this was important. I tried to keep my face expressionless, and waited.

“This one has received a communication of a rather unsettling nature,” he said at last. “The house of the West has spies across the country, and one of them believes that a plot is brewing within our very house.”

I blinked. “A plot?”  

“ _Yes_ , miko, a _plot_ ,” came the exasperated reply. “You are in the house of one of the cardinal lords of Japan; surely you didn’t think that we were immune to politics here?”

I hadn’t, precisely, but it also hadn’t occurred to me that intrigue might become part of my day-to-day life. I ducked my head demurely and said no more.

“In _any_ case,” he snapped, “our contact in the North has warned us that someone is looking to provoke Sesshoumaru-sama into attacking them.” He paused, polishing his beak idly with one silk sleeve and looking out the window at the heavy grey sky.

“What can I do?” I asked softly, drawing his eyes back to me. He opened his mouth once, then closed it again, thinking better of whatever he was about to say. Finally, his shoulder slumped in defeat.

“Keep Rin safe,” he said simply. “Be vigilant, and call for Katsura or one of the guards at once if you notice anything out of the ordinary. We will keep a guard on her at all times, but we do not know what kind of threat it is, or who will be carrying out the action. Perhaps it has nothing to do with her. But I know my lord,” he said, his voice rising to a squawk with his conviction, “and there are few things that would provoke him to deadly rage like a threat to Rin’s wellbeing.”

I digested this information for a moment in silence, then met his yellow eyes. “You have my word,” I said softly. “I will be vigilant, and if it is in my power, I will protect her no matter the cost.”

He nodded, satisfied, and without another word he stood and left me to my disordered thoughts.

**

From that day on, a guard followed Rin wherever she went. One was stationed at her door when she slept; one stood silently in a corner of the library while I taught her; one leaned in a corner of the kitchen while we ate. I was astonished to realize, one the one hand, how accustomed I had become to the constant press of demonic auras – Katsura, Mayumi, and Jaken were constant presences in my life – but also how very, very different one demonic aura could be from another. The guards’ auras were without exception rough, bristling, aggressive, and brash. They made me nervous,  and acutely conscious of being a warrior priestess in a house of demons; these new warlike youkai had me ready to fight at a moment’s notice. I lived a life on edge. Even redoubling my efforts in the dojo in the morning helped only a little to sort out some of my unease before I had to soothe Rin’s. And always, everywhere I went, some guard was there, waving his aura around like an unsheathed sword.

Rin felt it too, though I think she felt more embarrassment at the intrusion into the solitude and privacy of the castle. Our lessons were quieter and more constrained, and even those hard-won yes and no answers dwindled to nothing. She would not speak in the presence of the guards. She and I both painted less, feeling the frivolity of the pastime keenly under the steely eyes of a silent onlooker. Dinner was quieter and more somber; even Katsura’s impertinence had vanished under the weight of her wariness, and Mayumi kept casting frightened looks towards the guard standing silently in the corner.

I wondered if it would ever end, this atmosphere of fear. I wondered if I could be happy here if it didn’t. After a week, I jumped at every shadow and noise, my purifying power sparking off my fingertips. After three, I harbored desperate fantasies of purifying not the threat to Rin but the guards who silently disrupted everything that had been good about my life in the House of the Moon. Our only reprieve was in the dojo, where I was granted a little leeway thanks to an early encounter with one of the guards: the pale calico-haired demon I had encountered on my first day had laughed at one of Rin’s missteps, and in a towering (and perhaps disproportionate, if I look back on my behavior dispassionately) rage I challenged him. Nearly being purified by a woman half his size had taught that particular demon that I was not to be underestimated. But he was one guard among many; while he warned the others that we were not to be interfered with in the dojo, his wary respect for me had little bearing on my life.

One evening, I’d had enough. At the end of another tense, silent dinner, I set my spoon down on the table with a little more force than necessary and announced to no one in particular that I was going to the hot spring. Rin’s eyes lit up, as I’d hoped, but then her face fell and she cast a sad glance at the guard.

“Rin,” I asked a little louder than necessary, my ire rising at the sadness in her eyes, “would you like to come with me?”

She looked fearfully at the guard by the door, who was glaring at me. When her big eyes turned back to me, I gave her the most encouraging smile I could muster – it would be fine. We needed to be away from them for just a few minutes. I would protect her. Finally, she gave me a nervous nod, and the two of us went off to prepare for a bath.

The guard – a tall, lean demon with shockingly bright emerald-green eyes and long black hair tied up in a severe topknot – sloped after us, irritation sparking through his aura and clashing against my own. I ignored him. Down the stairs from our rooms, out into the gardens, to the back wall. After Rin slipped through the gate, I turned, met the guard’s eyes, and drew a barrier around the hot spring. He could not follow.

His curses rang through the garden, twining with my laughter. My barrier protected us well – no one bothered us during our bath – and Rin’s smiles were worth every moment of the guard’s fuming afterwards.  

From that evening on, Rin and I enjoyed more of our old life than we had before; the guards could not hinder everything, and we stopped allowing them to intimidate us out of our pleasures. We painted again, redoubled our efforts in the dojo, enjoyed long trips to the hot springs, and in the end the guards grew to know us as the unrepentant wild things we were. With their tolerance for our idiosyncrasies, our patience for their relentless, inescapable presence in our lives grew. Their auras still beat at mine relentlessly, but in a way it honed me for battle again, and I wondered if I had gotten soft before they appeared; I was almost grateful.

Perhaps, I thought, perhaps eventually this too would simply become normal. Hope beats its wings in my chest again. I had not lost all chance of happiness.

**

One morning in midwinter, I woke in the predawn grey, certain that something was wrong. Taking a deep breath, I steadied my emotions and sank into deep meditation, sending my aura out in a vast expanding bubble, seeking answers. Jaken was in the upper levels of the castle. Kaede’s aura was missing. Katsura and Mayumi were in the kitchens. Two youkai stood at the gate – guards. But there was another. A single youkai aura was retreating from the castle. It was faint – no, not faint. It was suppressed. Stealthy.

“Rin?” I called as I leapt from bed, a nameless worry settling in the pit of my stomach.  I threw on my hakama and gi, grabbed my bow and half-empty quiver, and sprinted down the hallway, throwing the door to her room open.

The room was empty, and unguarded. I knelt beside her futon and pressed a shaking hand to it; still warm. Perhaps Jaken knew where she was. Perhaps she had gone for an early breakfast in the kitchens. Perhaps nothing was wrong.

I shook my head, vaulted down the stairs, and took off after the retreating aura with all the speed my body could manage. Perhaps I would look a fool, but if through my negligence I allowed some harm to come to that little girl, I would never forgive myself.

It had snowed in the night, but whomever it was had taken pains to hide their tracks. I followed the demonic aura into the forest, pulling my own aura deep inside me and shielding it from detection. I hoped that it hid my scent, as well; the monks claimed that when done correctly it did, but I had never been in the position of testing it before.

A wolf howled from the woods, then was joined by its brethren. With no thought at all save protecting Rin, I broke into a wild run. The branches of the snow-laden trees tore at my sleeves and little clumps of ice trickled ticklishly down the back of my neck. The cold air burned my lungs. There was a clearing ahead; I could see it. The wolves were there – four? Five. More! More were stalking slowly out of the woods, circling around something hidden from my view by the trees, their demonic auras dark and menacing. Demon wolves, monsters like the ones I had faced with the monks. I nocked an arrow. Just as I burst through the edge of the clearing, one of the wolves tired of waiting and lunged – for a little dark-haired child in a checkered orange and yellow kimono.

I fired; he exploded in pink flames. By the time the other wolves had turned to look at me, I had sent two more arrows into their midst, purifying two more of them. I took desperate stock of the situation; Rin was there, accompanied by one of the guards – a slight, quiet young demon with a shy smile and shock of true-red hair. My stomach churned with fury and horror at the thought that he was the traitor. I’d _liked_ him.

Pouring as much of my purity as I could into another arrow, I fired; it went through one wolf and lodged in another, and both dissolved into pink light.

I skidded to a stop between Rin and the wolves, raising a barrier of shimmering pink light around us, with the guard on the outside. A wolf slammed into it at top speed then skulked back into the pack, his fur smoking. There were still so many!

“Rin,” I said softly, not wanting to frighten her further. “Are you all right?” I saw her nod out of the corner of my eye. “Good. Stay here.” There were too many wolves for a long-range weapon to do me much good; how I wished for a staff! I swung my bow around, unstrung it, and stepped through the barrier.

Three of the wolves lunged at me at once, snapping and snarling. I cracked one across the jaw, jammed the end of my bow hard into another’s stomach, and hit the third hard enough at the base of his skull that he fell and didn’t move again. In a moment of rash fury, I charged at the remaining group of wolves, sending two or three flying into the air with well-timed blows from my bow. They scattered, whimpering as they fled into the woods.

I re-strung my bow and nocked another arrow as the last of wolves fled. There was one threat I hadn’t dealt with yet.

I turned to face Rin, allowing the barrier to fall. She was still standing stock still in the snow, her face white and dark eyes wide, trembling visibly. Behind her, the guard was backing towards the edge of the clearing, his horrified eyes locked on me; it seemed he had been too stunned by my appearance to move, whether to attack or to run. I pulled Rin into a one-armed embrace, and she latched onto my side, shivering. Wildness and fury swelled through me, building fight-fueled adrenaline and streaking through my limbs like lightning. I aimed my final arrow at him, purity flaring up around me and Rin like a bonfire.  “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t purify you,” I gritted out through clenched teeth.

“He is not yours to kill,” came a smooth, low voice from behind me. I gasped and whirled to face the voice. Another demon stood at the edge of the clearing, his long silver hair flowing behind him like a moonlit river.

In that moment, all I could think was that there was another threat to Rin’s safety. I fired.

He moved so quickly I couldn’t even see him; he was faster and stronger than any demon I had ever fought before. A new dread welled up in me. Was this the mastermind behind the attack? I had to protect her! Before I could even draw another arrow, though, Rin’s voice broke through my panic.

“Kagome-sama, stop!”

I blinked down at her. Rin had spoken? She was pressed tight to my side again, both arms clutching my waist, looking up at me with urgent concern. The demon had positioned himself between us and the guard in the clearing, his back to me – he did not seem interested in attacking further, nor did he fear any further attack from me. One of the sleeves of his billowing white and red haori was smoking. Despite his speed, I had not missed.

“Sesshoumaru-sama won’t hurt me, Kagome-sama!” she said, and after gaping stupidly down at her for a long moment, I understood. I had sealed my own death-warrant; I had fired upon the Lord of the West. I had shot my own employer, and the lord of my house.

The Lord of the West, in the meantime, was ignoring me, intent on the ashen-faced young guard. The guard, in turn, was casting panicked, indecisive glances back and forth between the demon-lord before him and the snowy wood. I hoped he wouldn’t run.

He ran. Before he even made it to the treeline, there was a barely-visible flash of white and silver, and a gurgling scream echoed through the wood. I knelt beside Rin, physically turning her face away from the bloody scene. She smiled sunnily at me, unbothered.

“It’s all right, Kagome-sama! Sesshoumaru-sama is here now.” She patted my shoulder gently, her smile never dimming. She was … reassuring _me_ that _I_ was safe. I stared at her, dumbfounded.

“Indeed.” The voice was close again. I blinked a few times, and looked up to see the strange demon standing by my side, hair unmussed, clothing and claws pristine save the smoking rent in his sleeve. I had neither heard nor sensed his approach.

“Sesshoumaru-sama!” Rin cried, her voice ringing through the clearing as she untangled herself from my arms and ran to him. “Sesshoumaru-sama has returned! Rin is glad to see you, Sesshoumaru-sama; have you come to stay long?” In a single breath, she uttered more words than I’d heard from her in the three months I’d been living there.                        

He lay one long-fingered hand on her black hair. “Rin.”

I stood slowly, taking shaky stock of this new figure. He was clad white and red with a blue and yellow obi; his armor was spiked, and a billowing white pelt was draped over one shoulder. His skin was as pale as the snow behind him, marked by two red stripes on each cheekbone and a blue crescent moon in the center of his forehead, and amber eyes regarded me with cool equanimity. He was eerily, inhumanly beautiful.

“Sesshoumaru-sama,” I said as steadily as I could, echoing what Rin had called him. “You are – you are the lord of the House of the Moon?”

He inclined his head, face unreadable.

“You will accompany me.” It was not a command; it was a statement of fact. Disobedience was unthinkable. 

He turned and walked with deliberate grace in the direction of the castle. Rin scampered along beside him, chattering happily about all the things I’d been teaching her. With a start, I realized that I was standing in an empty clearing staring off at them; I gathered my wits and followed them back home. 


	5. Chapter 5

I slung my bow over one shoulder and followed the Lord of the West back to the castle, dread sitting in the pit of my stomach like a stone. I would be cast out, without a doubt, but would he kill me? I was not sure that I could stop him. If he merely cast me out, what would I do? Return to some sanctified holy life as a village miko, as though I had never become a friend to demons? The thought was vaguely repulsive, and made me feel like a hypocrite.

The demon-lord entered his castle with Rin chattering blithely by his side. I was not far behind them, now, and arrived in time to see Jaken, Mayumi, and Katsura all kneeling in the snow at the door with their faces pressed to backs of their hands on the ground.

The lord paused at the door just long enough to lift Jaken by the collar of his drab suikan and haul him unceremoniously off, then disappeared into the dark corridors of the castle with Rin two steps behind him. I paused at the door, hesitant, as Mayumi and Katsura sat back on their heels and met each other’s eyes in dismay.

“Mayumi—” I started, “Katsura—should I … what should I do?”

Katsura shrugged helplessly, looking in the direction that her lord had gone. “What happened?” she asked, brushing the snow off her front and clambering laboriously to her feet before turning to help Mayumi up.

I explained as briefly as I could.

“You _purified_ him?” Katsura gasped when I told them how he had appeared so suddenly.

“I didn’t know it was him!” I wailed, covering my face with my hands in an agony of remembered horror. “I thought it was whoever was behind the attack – I thought it was someone else who was trying to hurt Rin.” When I looked at them again, their mirrored expressions of incredulity pierced me through. What had I done? What had I broken? I knew from their expressions that my life as I knew it was over.

It was Mayumi who finally broke the silence.

“Well, child,” she started, brushing her apron off again with a businesslike air, “there’s no knowing what will happen next, but you’d best face it warm and fed. Into the kitchen with you, and we’ll get you some breakfast before you speak to the young lord.” 

 I allowed myself to be shepherded off, and to accept their comfort before I had to face my doom.

**

Sesshoumaru-sama was sitting in one of the seldom-used drawing rooms, now lit with a roaring fire. A low lacquered table sat in front of him, bearing two cups of steaming tea. Rin knelt beside him, her attempts to look demure hampered by the unselfconscious, guileless happiness that was radiating off her. She smiled up at me with such contentment it was hard for me to remember my own danger. Behind them, Jaken cowered against the wall.

I stood silently, schooling my features into demure expressionlessness and desperately reminding myself of all my manners. More than anything I reminded myself to stay a lady for just a few moments; I could not afford to allow my wildness to make an already dire situation worse.

“Am I to understand that you are Rin’s new tutor?” he asked without preamble, his voice cold.

I gathered my wits as best I could. “Yes, my lord. I am trained in—”

He cut me off. “You are a miko.”

I did not wince. “I am.”

“In a house of demons.”

“Yes.”

“Do you fear me?”

I considered. There was no question that he was orders of magnitude more powerful than any demon I had ever encountered before, and I had no way of knowing for sure how strong he truly was, given how expertly his aura was masked. If he was anywhere near as powerful as I suspected, though, I would not have stood a chance against him in battle. I remembered what Katsura and Mayumi had told me of his nature – but I also remembered the cold, silent fury in his eyes as he regarded the demon who’d endangered his ward, the heart-stopping speed with which he’d dispatched the threat to her safety. I looked down to where Rin was beaming in delight by his side.

“No.”

He let out a small “hn,” golden eyes inscrutable.

“Rin,” he started. She perked up like a puppy at her name. “Fetch the scrolls from this week’s lessons.” She nodded eagerly and darted off without a word, and at a silent glare from his lord, Jaken slunk after her.

When we were alone, I couldn’t help but look at the burn on his arm, the unhealed gash visible through the blackened rip in his sleeve. Without giving myself a chance to think, I dropped to my knees and pressed my forehead to the floorboards.

“I apologize for injuring you, Sesshoumaru-sama,” I murmured into the floor. He said nothing. After a moment, I raised my eyes and met his again. Sitting back on my heels, I opened my mouth, then closed it again. I could not be so presumptuous, could I?

“Speak.” His voice rumbled through the room with an irresistible authority. 

 “There is still some holy power in the wound, preventing your youki from healing it,” I offered, hesitant but determined. “May I remove it?”

Golden eyes narrowed. “After your earlier attempt to purify me, you think I will allow you so close to my person? You must think me a fool.”

I shook my head, a desperation bubbling up in my chest. “No, my lord – you are mistaken. Earlier, in the woods, I—I thought you had come to take Rin away, or to kill her.”

“Because you believe all demons to be evil.”

“Would I be living in your home if I believed that?” I cried, exasperation and defensiveness conquering all my earlier determination to be polite. “Would I be friends with Mayumi and Katsura, accepting of Jaken’s offciousness, on good terms with a whole platoon of trained youkai soldiers acting as your guards if I believed that? I acted without thinking, and for that I apologize – but my reflex was based not on any belief that demons are evil but entirely on my will to keep Rin safe!”

One elegant eyebrow arched. “You acted for Rin’s safety, not your own.” It was not a question, but his implied skepticism rankled.

“I can take care of myself,” I answered, raising my chin defiantly.

“That does seem to be the case,” he mused, gesturing to his arm.  “Very well, miko, you may heal me, but if you attempt _anything_ other than withdrawing your reiki from my wound, you will die at my claws before you can take another breath.”

I nodded. The whole scene was unreal, suddenly; I felt as though I were floating above my own body, looking on. I had brazenly, rudely, _wildly_ disrespected a demon-lord, and he had neither berated nor punished me! Indeed, it seemed almost as though my particular kind of graceless, uncultured honesty had convinced him of my sincerity. Rising clumsily, I crossed to where he sat and knelt by his side.

He drew his sleeve up, and I gasped. His arm was pale as alabaster, corded with muscle, and marked with two curving red stripes that tapered at his wrist to match the ones on his cheeks – and currently sporting the angriest gash I had ever seen in a lifetime of tending battle injuries. The wound was raw and weeping, my purity burning actively away at his skin like an acid. He must have been in excruciating pain. I lay a tentative hand over it, ignoring a slight hiss from him, and closed my eyes.

I had never touched a demon before, skin to skin. It was dizzying. I could feel his power filling every vein, every muscle, every cell of his body; if I’d wanted, I could have traced the ley lines of youki like a road map. It flared at the encroachment of my aura, like the warning snarl of a living thing. My own reiki, too, was acting like a separate entity, with a will and a purpose separate from my own. It was angry, and wanted to destroy the demon’s power – I realized with a shock that its anger was protective, like a mother cat against a force threatening her kittens. I had never felt anything like it; I had no idea my own emotions were etched so deeply into my power as I embedded it into an arrow.

Centering myself, I cleared my thoughts and allowed my power to rush in as in meditation. Youki and reiki both paused their battle, almost as though listening. I willed calm upon my reiki; Rin was safe. Nothing was to be gained by this attack. I wished strength to his youki; it was needed to heal him. To my surprise, both powers responded to my wordless will, and when I flexed my power and withdrew it deep inside myself, the reiki that had lodged in his arm withdrew with it.

His youki swelled, some inexplicable emotion in its electric buzz against my palm. I felt the flesh mending under my hand, the skin knitting back together, and finally even the scar vanishing. I opened my eyes and met the golden ones that were staring implacably down at me. 

The door crashed open and Rin darted in, arms laden with scrolls. I leapt guiltily and withdrew my hand, rising with as much grace as I could muster and retreating to the far side of the table.

I was simultaneously grateful and astonished when Rin let loose a torrent of words, telling her beloved Sesshoumaru-sama about everything she had learned from me. While I regained my composure, she demonstrated sums for him, then with dizzying abruptness switched topics and began explaining (with some confusion, I’m afraid) the movement of heavenly bodies, our most recent subject of scientific inquiry. She told him about the great philosopher Kong Fuzi from China, and this week’s discussion of his ideas about justice. She was particularly proud to show off her calligraphy, chatting happily about the Classical Chinese I had taught her as well. Her accent was imperfect, but she had retained a great deal of the spoken language despite never having practiced it with me.

The demon-lord regarded Rin and her scrolls with the same implacable calm until she had all but worn herself out. When she finished, she bounced on the balls of her feet, waiting for some kind of response. At last, those golden eyes crinkled slightly, and he let out a soft grunt.

“Hn.”

Rin grinned as broadly as I’d ever seen, taking that for high praise. “Oh, oh, oh!” she cried, remembering. “Will Sesshoumaru-sama come to the dojo to watch Rin practice katas?”

The almost-smile dropped, as did my stomach. _Rin_ , I wailed inside my head, _why now? Couldn’t you have told him about this when I wasn’t already in trouble?_ Then again, I wasn’t sure I would ever not be in trouble; this demon-lord didn’t seem like the type to forget.

“Katas.” His gaze turned on me.

“Yes, my lord.”

He turned to Jaken. “You allowed this?”

Jaken flattened himself on the floor with a squawk, wailing about how I had insisted and that I had sworn it was only in defense and there was nothing he could do to stop me and how it was all my fault for being a stupid, boorish, crude, and uncultured human with no respect for demon values. The demon-lord visibly dismissed him.

“You will explain.” The command hung between us, heavy and demanding.

“Rin is a child,” I explained with as much equanimity as I could muster, “with a child’s abundant energy. She focuses much better on her lessons when she has a chance to expend some of that energy in productive ways; otherwise she is, naturally, fidgety and distracted during lessons. Since we began drilling katas every afternoon her strength and stamina have improved, as has her concentration and dedication in lessons.” I glanced over to where Rin stood anxiously, uncertain whether her beloved guardian approved of her activities or not. “And she enjoys it.”

“Hn.” He turned back to his ward. “Is this true?”

“Yes, Sesshoumaru-sama!” she cried, all enthusiasm and cheer. “Rin loves her afternoons with Kagome-sama in the dojo – Kagome-sama is the best teacher Rin has ever had!”

There was a moment’s silence while everyone in the room digested this information.

“Very well,” Sesshoumaru announced at last. “Dismissed. Rin, I will join you in the dojo at your usual hour.”

Jaken scuttled out of the room, with Rin dancing out just behind him. I stood, waiting uncertainly.

“Is there a problem with your hearing, miko? You are dismissed.” His voice was cold, flat – bored.

“Am I to remain?” I asked bluntly, no longer bothering to attempt politeness. My livelihood – my life – was at stake.

“I thought I was very clear, miko – you are to remove yourself from my presence.” 

“Am I to remain,” I repeated doggedly, “in the House of the Moon?”

His eyes flicked up at me, then to the window. “You expect me to turn you out.” It was, again, not a question.

I lowered my gaze, acutely aware of all of the ways I had failed in my job already. “I did teach your ward martial arts without your permission, allowed her to be drawn out of the castle and endangered, and badly injured you,” I said, my voice getting smaller and smaller as I enumerated my failures. The last of all felt like the worst offense: “And I spoke out of turn.”

In the first display of true emotion I had seem from him, he sighed, and raised a long-fingered hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Miko, you saved my ward when all of my other retainers had failed spectacularly, even putting yourself into the path of a daiyoukai to protect her. Under your tutelage, Rin has made marked improvement in her scholarship, and she is obviously fond of you. If she learns to protect herself to some degree as well, so much the better. The world is dangerous.” He met my eyes, one eyebrow barely quirked. “And frankly, miko, it’s something of a relief to have a conversation with someone who speaks their mind without simpering and trying to anticipate what I want to hear.”

My jaw had gone slack as he spoke, but I reined in my astonishment and bowed low. No one had ever given me such praise; my heart rose into my throat, and I felt tears pricking at the backs of my eyes. 

“Thank you, my lord,” I murmured.

“Dismissed,” he repeated, lifting his teacup. I collected what I could of my composure, and fled.

**

The House of the Moon accommodated its lord’s presence with little disruption save the abrupt disappearance of the guards and the sudden bustle in the kitchen to prepare for his formal dinner taken nightly alone in one of the large dining rooms. He would watch us at our katas periodically, but without the mean-tempered eye of the guards; he merely watched.

Indeed, I could feel his eyes on me nearly all the time, even when I knew for a fact that he was in another part of the castle and shouldn’t have been able to see me. More than once I turned around quickly for one reason or another and caught a flash of silver hair or white silk, gone before I was sure what I had seen.

Still, in the coming weeks, Rin and I maintained our schedule of lessons, painting, meals, and katas, and while perhaps Rin was a little antsier and more distractible than was her wont, it had little effect on my life. At some point, I hesitantly questioned Katsura about the wisdom of the guards’ removal back to their barracks, and whether it was safe to assume that the danger was past. She laughed in my face, only collecting herself enough to assure me that there was no one in the country foolish enough to tempt the wrath of Sesshoumaru-sama in his own den – and if anyone was reckless enough to try, they would never succeed. His power, she reminded me with no trace of mirth left in her voice, was unimaginable.

This unimaginably powerful figure, this new silent presence, fascinated me. I wanted to see him, to learn him, to understand him. I wanted to speak to him, to hear of his life, to ask how Rin came to be his ward, to ask why Kaede was in his employ. He also intimidated me. I felt keenly his power over me – not the power of a strong demon over a weak human, but the crasser power of a demanding employer over an unorthodox subordinate. I dreaded the day he would demand a true account of me. I dreaded the day I would be measured and found wanting.

One evening a few weeks after his return to the House of the Moon, however, Sesshoumaru-sama called me into his study to sit with him after dinner. Katsura and Mayumi could give me no guidance as to what to say or how to behave, so I was left to my own wits. Heaven help me.

I entered in silence and knelt opposite him at a low table and kept my eyes demurely down. I could feel his unblinking gaze settle on me like snow, heavy and chilling.

He sighed. “Miko, have you nothing to say?” 

“No, my lord.” Demure. Respectful. Eyes down. I willed myself not to lose my composure with him again.

“You certainly spoke your mind freely enough before.”

“Indeed, my lord, and for that I apologize.”

He sighed again. “I summoned you because I weary of solitude. Will you simply sit there in silence, or offer me empty flattery?”

“If my lord wishes me to speak, I will say what you wish me to.”

“And if I wished you to tell me about the greatness of my house, my deeds, and my ancestry?”

“The latter I cannot speak to, my lord, but the former I have learned in detail from Jaken-sama.” 

Even with my eyes on my hands, I could see the fanged grin my words provoked. “I’m sure you have.” He regarded me in silence for another moment, then grimaces slightly, his aura crackling with irritation. “Very well, miko. Tell me something about the person I am entrusting with the safety of my ward.”

I blinked down at my hands, which were clasping my serviceable new kimono against my knees, before looking up to meet his eyes.

“About me, my lord?” 

“Unless there is another.” One eyebrow quirked, just the tiniest bit.

I decided to treat his words as though they were in earnest. “No, my lord.” I sat back on my heels, considering what to say to a man bored by humans and their petty affairs.

“There is little to tell,” I admitted at last. “I was orphaned too young to remember my family, and raised by Ungai and his monks. I left them only some four months ago, and have been employed here ever since.”

“Little to tell indeed,” his deep voice drawled softly. “You left a pack of demon-killers and offered your services in a demon house.” His eyes were sharp, and I realized at last what he was getting at – was I some threat? Another spy, a danger who had embedded themselves in his household?

Rather than feeling defensive, however, all I felt was relief. Understanding his goal made it easier to speak freely; since I could offer him reassurance, I would. “In truth, my lord, I did not know this was a demon house when I arrived; I had heard only that there was a child here who needed a tutor. But yes, I left the monks and did not shrink from a life surrounded by demons.” I met his eyes. “I suspected for much of my childhood that the monks were concealing the true nature of demons from us.”

An elegant eyebrow shot upwards. “You doubted the ones who raised you and taught you?”

“They were learned and wise, but driven by dogma. In science lessons, they taught us to question everything that was presented to us as truth, but they themselves presented as truth that demons were soulless, mindless, violent beasts. But I knew even as a child that not all demons were that way.” I shook my head, remembering the fox child again, his vivid green eyes wide with terror. “Once I began to question their teachings in my heart, their fables and tales about demons’ wickedness frightened me less. When I was less frightened, I began to notice that even in those stories, more often than not the demons had been goaded, threatened, or abused before they acted in the violent ways the monks claimed was their only way of life.”

“Hn,” came the soft reply. “And how did the monks react to your doubt?”

“I never told them,” I admitted, a little sheepishly. His disconcerting eyes were fixed on my face.

“And because you never told them, they never knew?”

He was sharp! I let out an involuntary gasp, suddenly feeling myself holding onto the pole in the front courtyard where the worst beatings were held. “They knew.” I shook my head, trying to clear the sound of bamboo canes on flesh out of my ears. “They certainly knew. I was a failure as a holy warrior, and they despised me for it.”

“To fail to become something repugnant is not much of a failure.”

I shook my head, some contrary desire to defend the monks rising in me, despite the vivid memories of my many beatings. “They were not repugnant,” I snapped, before realizing that I had just contradicted a demon lord. I raised frightened eyes to his face, but found neither fury nor insult; he seemed to be waiting.

 “I do believe that they were … misguided, but their goals were pure,” I said in more measured tones, trying to keep my voice from trembling. “They wanted to protect the villages ravaged by beasts. They wanted to end human suffering wherever they could. They were wrong to do it at the expense of other sentient beings, but they were driven solely by the desire to do good in the world. And they saved many lives, and were much beloved by the people they helped.”

“You do not hate the people who hated you?” 

I paused, considering. My reflexive defense of Ungai and his monks confused even me, if I was being honest with myself. I did hate them. Didn’t I?

“No,” I decided at last. “I do not hate them. I wonder – I wonder if they hated youkai as they hated me. For being different, for being wild, for being failures as monks.” The thought had never occurred to me before, but it felt like the truest thing I had ever said. I raised my chin defiantly as I carried the thought to its natural conclusion: “But demons aren’t monks, and neither am I.”

A smile broke over my face like a wave. I finally understood them enough to forgive them.  “Their hatred for me is, I think, another way in which they were misguided. I do not hate them; I pity them.”

“Hn.”

We sat together in companionable silence for a bit longer before he dismissed me, but during that interview, something between us had changed. Despite my background, despite my humanity, despite my status as a servant in his house, I had a strange, unnerving sense that this demon-lord truly _saw_ me, and didn’t shun me even so.  


	6. Chapter 6

The winter flew past, and as snow gave way to mud, I grew accustomed to peremptory summons. Katsura and Mayumi shook their heads and muttered in surprise; Sesshoumaru was apparently disinclined to converse with most, but it almost made sense to me. Not only was I his subordinate, I wasn’t even a demon; I would not, could not judge him, could not expect him to be anything other than what he was. The pressures of being a daiyoukai simply didn’t apply when he was with me. He was free.

And he made peculiar use of his freedom. He was terrifying, to be sure, and I hoped I never found myself opposing him in battle, but because of my very inconsequence, he allowed me to see more of himself, of his true nature behind the fangs and claws. I found him to be a capricious and unpredictable companion whose conversation veered precipitously between academic discussions of philosophy and the minutiae of human physiology and illness, and between grandiose posturing and what seemed to me to be honesty so raw it made my chest ache. I had not much idea what he thought of me, but I treasured our conversations like gifts.

One afternoon, when the bravest buds were beginning to poke through the thin crust of slush in the garden, I was asked to make him tea while dinner was prepared. I had accustomed myself to settling in the library to paint after Rin’s lessons were done, and had already quite settled in when Mayumi sought me out. My pulse leapt and fluttered, as it always did when he called me, but I still felt some reluctance to leave my current painting.

Nonetheless, I determined set about serving my lord tea with all the good humor I could muster. This strange life I lead was thanks entirely to his generosity. I would not be churlish.

I entered the room with a bow, Mayumi at my heels bearing what I couldn’t carry of the tea accoutrements. I knelt as she shuffled out, raising my eyes just enough to see whether or not he wanted me to proceed immediately or wait until invited.

When I looked up, I couldn’t restrain a gasp – his desk was piled with scrolls. My paintings!

All the horror I felt must have shown on my face, for he inclined his head at the scrolls and said in a low rumble, “Rin brought these to my attention. She thinks your painting is magnificent.”

I bit my lower lip hard and lowered my head. “Rin is easily impressed.”

He grunted softly, a claw tapping against one of the scrolls.

“These are all your own work.”

“Yes, my lord,” I said, arranging the tea tools in front of me with trembling hands. I noted idly that it seemed I retreated into uncharacteristic deference when taken by surprise. I wondered if it was a survival instinct left over from living with the monks.

“You see this as an invasion of your privacy.”

“I have no privacy, my lord.” It was both so true and such a lie! Here, in this strange, empty, lonely house – I had rooms upon rooms with no one to see, and yet here my innermost thoughts were open to scrutiny.

“I agree that it is.” I glanced up to see if he was mocking me – his eyes were serious. “But once shown them, I could not pretend that I had not seen them. You had a right to know.”

I bowed my head again, and closed my eyes. “Thank you, my lord.”

“Oh, stop that,” he snapped, dropping all pretense of formality. I dropped the bamboo whisk in surprise and stared up at him, unused to being berated in quite that tone. “Don’t cringe and grovel like Jaken. You alone can tell me your true thoughts; _do_ so.”

“Very well, my lord,” I answered, my voice clipped with irritation as I met his eyes defiantly. He wanted my thoughts; he would have them. “I do find it to be an invasion of privacy, and I wish very much that Rin had asked my consent before bringing them to you. She did not, however, and you have seen them, so I hope that now that everyone’s desires have been satisfied, we can return to life as it was before.”

“Miko,” he began, his voice softer than I had heard it before. “I would very much like to examine your paintings. May I?”

I blinked. He had already seen them; why ask permission now? But – but. He had never asked me for anything before. All of his previous demands had been made in that imperious way he had, neither requesting nor commanding, but simply stating that a thing would be done. But now a great daiyoukai was asking for my permission?

“What would you do if I said no?”

“I would roll the scrolls up and hand them back to you, and we would not speak of them again.” He was regarding me with the same cool equanimity as he always wore, but there was something in his eyes that made me believe him to be sincere. Even though he had every right to demand my compliance, to force my obedience, I trusted that in this instance he would not.

I lowered my eyes again. “You may look at them, my lord.”

He sank into silent meditation, and I set to work meticulously cleaning the tea tools, warming the tea bowl, and preparing the tea. When I had whisked the tea to a perfect froth, I rose and set the cup before him on the low desk. He was looking at one of my favorite paintings, of a mangrove forest lit by a swirling stream of fireflies, their eerie glow illuminating the finger-like roots and water below.

He looked up at me as I placed the tea on the table. “Where did this image come from?” 

“From my head, my lord.”

“That head?” he asked, pointing a clawed finger at my nose, one eyebrow arched.

I let out a giggle, then clapped my hands over my mouth, surprised at myself. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed, I realized suddenly. Flushed, I bowed my head and nodded in confirmation. 

“Who taught you to paint?" 

“No one, my lord,” I answered, a little startled by the question. “I had never painted before I arrived here, but Rin seemed to enjoy it and felt easier when I wasn’t hovering at her shoulder, so I began to paint as well.” I shrugged uncomfortably. “It is a pastime, nothing more.”

Gold eyes were sharp on my face. “Nothing more.” I fought the urge to squirm. Any time I said something I didn’t fully mean, even if I thought I meant it when the words came out of my mouth, he noticed it. I had an unnerving sense that he knew me much better than he had any right to, given how short a time we’d known each other.

He picked the scroll up with one hand, raising his cup of tea in the other. “Such sorrow,” he murmured softly, more to himself than to me.  

I blinked at him, and drew a shuddering breath. I’d never imagined that might be visible to anyone but me. I had seen the image in a dream, and indeed it was sorrowful. The dream had shown me an island of children who had to sacrifice themselves to devouring, vengeful gods, and when they died their souls became fireflies. At one point as I was painting it, I was nearly in tears with the weight of grief for the thousands of lives represented by those little dots of yellow-green light.  

He set that painting aside and returned to another, of a beautiful woman in red robes standing on the surface of a glass-smooth sea. She held a mirror facing out, and the full moon glowed a deep purple above her.

“Tell me, miko,” he began. “Did painting these make you happy?”

“Happy?” I considered. “That is … not quite the right word, I think. I often felt frustration, even anger, that my inexpert hand could not do justice to the image in my mind’s eye. But I was engrossed – I was engaged entirely, mind and spirit.” I looked down over the woman’s face, remembering the fascination and fear I had felt while giving her form. “Perhaps ‘happy’ is not the wrong word, though. There was a ferocious joy that drove me as I was working on them.”

He set the scroll down and turned his attention fully to me. “They are clearly the work of an untrained hand, but the vision is … singular, and even its ghost is powerful. I can already see tremendous improvement from your early paintings to your more recent ones. I don’t doubt that you will continue to improve, as well, and if you are willing to share your future works with me, I would be interested to see them.” I nodded, reeling somewhat from the strange combination of praise and brutal honesty. “When do you find time for painting?”

“After Rin’s lessons, mostly,” was my quiet answer.

He glanced out the window at the setting sun; the days had begun to lengthen, but were still quite short. “I am interrupting you.”

I shook my head, suddenly adamant that he not feel like an intrusion. “It is no interruption, my lord,” I assured him. “My duty lies with you, not with my own frivolous pastimes.” As soon as the words were spoken, I regretted them. He was no more a mere obligation than my painting was a mere pastime.

He grunted softly, and something sour flitted across his face like the shadow of a cloud. “Duty.” He drew a slow breath, and when he spoke again it was with his characteristic implacable confidence. “You will speak to Mayumi about having lamps set in the library in the evenings, if you wish to work after dinner. The days may be short, but there is no reason you should not have the full use of your free time for your own fulfillment.”

My heart swelled. “Thank you, my lord.” I bit my lip, hesitating. I wanted to correct my earlier words, but how could I do it in a way that would not be a further insult?

A soft huff of laughter interrupted my thoughts; I met his eyes, startled, and found them crinkled with amusement I’d never seen in them before. I was reminded again of his unearthly beauty.

“Miko, say what is on your mind. Watching you decide whether or not to speak is exhausting.”

I smiled despite myself. “I misspoke before, my lord,” I started. “Of course you have my duty and my obligation; your wishes will always take precedence over my own frivolous amusements.” The slightest hint of a frown was crinkling the crescent moon on his forehead, but otherwise his face was perfectly expressionless, as always. I barreled on. “But while you can command obedience, you cannot command pleasure – and you have that as well. I…” Here I blushed and stuttered a little. “I enjoy our conversations very much.”

The wrinkle in his forehead smoothed out, and something of his usual smugness returned to his countenance.

**

Painting at night became a welcome part of my routine in the House of the Moon; I treasured those extra few hours of my own private meditations. My paintings progressed much more quickly, and I grew more confident in my own abilities. I spent more and more time with Sesshoumaru, as well, which was a balm to a loneliness I didn’t fully realize I suffered until it was eased. Capricious he was, but also thoughtful, and brilliant in his own way. I had never known the stimulation that thoughtful conversation with another adult could bring. It was a keen joy.  

One evening as I served him tea before dinner, our conversation turned to darker topics than usual.

“My lord,” I started, enjoying the freedom to begin conversations as I chose. “Something has been bothering me since your return. May I ask about the plot against Rin’s life?” 

He rearranged himself to sit more comfortably on the silk cushion, a smirk settling over his face.

“I was wondering when you would ask,” he rumbled with a hint of self-satisfaction. “You were so concerned about her safety when I arrived, yet this is the first you have mentioned to me about it.” I was growing accustomed to the questions he posed without asking them, so I knew that he was awaiting an answer.

“I spoke to Katsura when you determined to remove the guards,” I replied, “but with her assurance that your presence was protection enough, I felt it was reaching above my station to ask more.”

“And you no longer feel that way.” 

“Would you rather I simpered and flattered you?” I asked, quirking an eyebrow at him with a cheeky smile. Perhaps I had grown too wild for human company, but how I enjoyed my freedom!

My impertinence was rewarded with a fanged grin from my employer. “Very well then, miko, ask me what you will, and I will answer as I may.”

I bowed my head and marshalled my thoughts.

“Several aspects of it confuse me,” I began. “First,” I held up a single finger, “Jaken said that the point of the plot was to provoke a war between you and the North; why would they not simply attack you?” I held up a second finger. “Secondly, if the point was to anger you into attacking, why did the traitor not kill Rin when he had a chance, instead of taking her out of the castle to be killed by wolves?” I brought up a third finger. “And lastly, will you take any action in response?” The last question was the most concerning to me in most ways. What kind of brutality was my employer capable of? And given how my own blood boiled just thinking of the danger to Rin, did I care? I would have killed the young guard without a second thought had Sesshoumaru not done it himself; I had no right to judge him for whatever vengeance he deemed appropriate.

Sesshoumaru was watching me appraisingly with those implacable amber eyes. “Hn,” he began, the noise a half-grunt of laughter. “Your first question is beneath you, miko; why do you think they did not make the first move themselves?” The question was not rhetorical; he was waiting.

I frowned. “I would suppose,” I said at last, “that either they did not want to attack you outright because they feared your greater strength and could not risk a head-on challenge, or else they wanted others to see them as the victim of your aggression rather than the aggressor themselves.” 

He gave a near-imperceptible shake of the head. “Near the mark, miko, but imperfect. You are making one assumption that is clouding your judgement.”

I frowned. What assumptions was I making? He had as much as told me that the plot was intended to provoke war. Who would benefit from starting a war, particularly with someone of Sesshoumaru’s strength? “Not your opponent,” I murmured. Golden eyes narrowed at me.

“The person who was behind the attack – it wasn’t the North,” I said, feeling like an utter fool that I hadn’t seen it before.

“Indeed,” he agreed, inclining his head slightly. “Yorozoku-sama, the lord of the North, was an ally of my sire’s, and there is no bad blood between us. The attack was, I have learned, at the behest of one of Yorozoku’s grandpups: Kai, a hotheaded whelp who wished his claim to power to supersede that of his elder cousin.” He grinned ferociously, fangs glistening in the lamplight. “Yorozoku is old, and talk of succession is becoming more flagrant. If I began a war with Yorozoku – and, implicitly, his choice of successor, his grandpup Kouga – that would likely be the end of Yorozoku’s life, and almost certainly the end of Kouga’s claim to power. No one will support a new cardinal lord who is at open war with others; the balance of power in the country demands at least a perfunctory attempt at concord.”

“So if you had attacked the North,” I said, trying to gather my wits, “This other person would have used your dispute to undermine the chosen succession and gain support to overthrow Kouga.” 

He inclined his head in agreement. “To your second point, if this plan were to work, Rin needed to be killed by wolves in order to implicate the ruling family of the North, who are wolf youkai. It had the added benefit of being a tremendous insult to my house, to endanger and kill her while she was under my protection – it would make me look weak.”

“How did no one find out?” I interjected, angered again by how close Rin had come to being killed. “I thought demons could smell emotions, or at least lies – how did no one know who the traitor was?”

“Did you suspect him?” he asked, voice gentler than I was expecting. “You could sense his aura, and should have been able to sense his deceit.”

My righteous fury evaporated in an instant; I subsided, shaking my head sadly. I had sensed nothing out of the ordinary from him.

“Just so,” he murmured, satisfied. “I think it likely that he simply believed so firmly that his cause was just that malice simply didn’t exist in his scent and aura. Or perhaps he was drugged or bespelled to have no knowledge of his own mission until he had to carry it out, though that again should have been detected. But this I cannot answer with certainty.” He shook his head once, then met my eyes defiantly.

“But to answer your final question, miko, I sent his head as a gift to Yorozoku, a token of our long alliance.” He was watching my face closely, as though waiting for my reaction.

All I could manage was a rough nod. “It was no more than he deserved,” I murmured, my voice thick. “I hope you can do the same to the more deserving, the one behind the plot.”

He let out a low rumble of laughter. “Well, who would have thought it possible,” he mused, eyes intent on my face. “I had expected you to chide me, or perhaps pale and faint. But it seems, miko-sama, that you have something of the heart of a youkai.”

On reflection I found the sentiment unsettling, but in the moment, it felt like the greatest compliment I had ever received.  

**

One cold spring night, I sat up later than usual, engrossed in my painting in the castle library. I was working assiduously on a new painting – a monstrous pile of spiked armor towered over a vast landscape of bones, with a dog’s skull the size of a temple sitting at its apex, circled by skeleton birds. I don’t know how long I had spent immersed in my work; hours, certainly, for the moon was high and bright when something broke me out of my reverie.

I instinctively shielded my scent and aura and took quick stock of my surroundings, all my senses heightened. There was nothing out of the ordinary in the library, but something was wrong. I could hear creaks above me, and a low snatch of laughter – that too was not terribly out of the ordinary, I reminded myself, given Kaede’s peculiarities. I could not sense her aura; it was expertly shielded, as always. I drew a deep breath to calm myself.

Smoke.

It was faint, but there was a distinct smell of smoke in the room. I leaped to my feet, double-checking that my own lamp was safe – the light was burning sedately behind its paper shade, no hint of smoke from there. I blew it out and ran into the hallway.

The smell of smoke was stronger there, and I could see a distinct haziness coming from the upper floors. Without thought for the consequences, I bounded up the stairs taking them two and three at a time. That way – the smoke was denser at the end of the hall, and seemed to be snaking out the cracked door of one specific room to wind its tendrils around my body. I threw the door open and gasped in horror, the smoke gouging at the back of my throat.

I found myself in the Lord of the West’s bedchamber. He lay asleep with his back to me, silver hair splayed out on silk, and the whole room was roaring with fire.

Desperately gathering my wits, I ripped at the drapes that hung from the ceiling to protect him from the draft; they were already half-eaten by flame. I used the fabric to beat at the flames that licked at the tatami mat and devoured the paper of the shoji doors, and when I had something of a safe way to him, I darted through the flames as quickly as I could. Dropping to my knees beside him on his futon, covering my mouth with one sleeve, I grabbed him by the shoulder and shook him, crying his name.

“Sesshoumaru-sama!” I gasped, as the smoke clawed at my lungs. “Wake up, my lord – you have to wake up!” There was no response from the sleeping demon, though I could feel his heart beating under me and his chest rising and falling with the rhythm of his breaths. Rolling him onto his back roughly, I pressed the palm of my hand to his sternum to see if a jolt of my purity could shock him awake, and the heel of my hand pressed into a dense field of reiki – a seal. He had been sealed into sleep by a miko!

The smoke was overwhelming me; my eyes were watering, my head swimming, and my wits were dulling fast. I reminded myself sharply that I could not allow myself the luxury of questioning who or why or how – not until the lord was safe, not until the fire was out. Drawing my power into my hand, I exerted all my will against the seal that held him there helpless. It seethed and raged at me, but when I commanded it to break, it crumbled into glittering shards of purity and vanished.

Golden eyes flew open and met mine. For half an instant we stared at each other.

“Fire!” I croaked at last, gesturing to the room around us like a fool. Before I could blink, he was on his feet, stamping and beating at the fire. He snatched up a basin I hadn’t noticed before and threw its contents across the futon, then used the drenched silk coverlet to beat out the remaining flames that licked stubbornly at the walls. I leaped up and helped him to extinguish the few remaining spots where the fire still tried to spread its destruction to the rest of the home.

When the fire had finally subsided to a damp smolder, and I collapsed to my knees, choking and gagging on smoke in the sudden darkness. He crossed the room in a few long strides and wordlessly threw open the window. A gust of frigid, blessedly clean air washed over me. For a minute or two more I knelt, coughing, trying to calm the beating of my heart and soothe the burning of my lungs. Wiping my eyes at last, I looked up at the demon who was regarding me coolly from across the room. 

“You will explain,” he said when my coughing had subsided somewhat.

“I was painting in the library,” I gasped, my voice raw and foreign-sounding. “I thought I heard laughing, and then I smelled smoke. I followed the smell here, and found you bound into sleep by some kind of seal; I couldn’t wake you.” I shook my head, beginning to shiver in the cold wind. “I broke the seal, and you woke.” I met his eyes, knowing my own must have looked wide and frightened. “It must have been Kaede, my lord – it was a miko’s seal, with a reiki I had never felt before. Why would she try to kill you?”

Without a word, he crossed the room and glared up and down the hallway. Taking up his pelt from atop his armor on a low table, he returned to me where I knelt on the floor, now shivering in earnest, and draped the thick fur around my shoulders. Dropping to one knee opposite me for just a moment, he looked into my eyes.

“You will be silent,” he murmured, his voice soft as velvet-covered steel. “You will keep your scent and aura hidden. And you will not move until I return.” At my nod, he gestured to a few cushions that had escaped both fire and water, and I lurched awkwardly to my feet to relocate to them. When I turned again as I settled myself, he was gone.

His pelt was warm, and softer than down; the cold air from the open window felt refreshing as a summer shower now that it no longer struck my whole body. And I could breathe again. Centering myself, I dropped into meditation. I did not count my breaths, nor the minutes, nor the hours, but I sat there long enough that I relaxed almost to the point of sleep, engulfed in the lovely embrace of soft white fur.

Sesshoumaru returned as silently as he had gone, sliding the charred shoji door shut behind him, for all the good it did. 

“All is well,” he rumbled softly as he crossed over to me. “Kaede did take a bit too much liquor tonight, and the charm she sometimes puts on me to aid my sleep was in unfortunate combination with my own carelessness in leaving a lamp unattended.” His eyes were hooded, withdrawn.

“It’s all right, my lord,” I assured him softly, my voice still roughed by the smoke. “You don’t need to lie to me.” His gaze sharpened, and he scowled down at me, looming even taller over where I sat. I smiled at him, feeling vague and disjointed, distanced from my body. “I am your employee, and you owe me no explanations. I’m just glad you’re not injured.” He did not answer.

I shook my head, willing myself to rise; the danger was past, and I needed to return to my own room. Gently – and I must admit a bit reluctantly – I detangled myself from the delicious warmth of his pelt, then rose clumsily. My whole body was stiff from sitting so long in the cold; I arched my back, stretching my sore muscles. We now stood facing each other, and I offered him the length of fur back with both hands. He took it with a strange reluctance, as though hesitant to end our transaction too soon – as though he had something to say.

I made no move to leave, not while he looked so uncertain. When at last he met my eyes, I cocked my head just a bit, listening, waiting, receptive. He looked away.

“I believe I owe you a debt of gratitude, miko,” he said at last, eyes still on the charred remains of his bed.   

“Kagome,” I corrected, my words flowing out unfiltered by my sluggish brain. “There is no debt, my lord, but if you insist on repayment, you may call me Kagome.” I smiled again, exhaustion making me giddy. “I am weary of being called ‘human’ or ‘miko’ as though they defined me.”

“Hn.” His eyes seemed to be looking right into me, piercing my very soul. He took one of my hands between both of his own. “You have my gratitude – Kagome.”

As he said my name, he allowed some small measure of his aura to surge out of its confinement, and it flared around us like a living thing. I gasped, at the strangeness of my name on his tongue, at the heat of his hand on mine, at the electric caress of his youki against my body and against my soul. I could feel my whole body flush crimson.

Again, the buzzing of his youkai against my hand resonated through him, and again I could feel him, all of him, the way a spider can feel visitors to his web; again, I could have traced every muscle, every vein of his body. My own aura rose up in answer, and now both uncloaked, our auras tangled together – frissons rolled up and down my spine and the heady strangeness of it stole my breath. His aura was tremendous, like the sea; vast, almost endless, and so very, very … _him_. With the touch of his aura, I could see him, his truest self, with dizzying clarity: arrogance, rage, ferocious protectiveness, loneliness, longing. Aura against aura, skin against skin. I had never felt so vulnerable with another living being. I wondered wildly what he was seeing of me.  

Finally, I shook my head as though coming out of a trance, and tried to draw away. “I should go, my lord.” He reined his aura in sharply, startled by my words.

“Go? Where?” He too seemed to be coming out of a dream, his eyes dark with something I couldn’t’ read. His hands still held me in a stone-strong grip.

 _Away!_ I thought. Away from your disconcerting eyes, away from this strange intimacy, away from my confusion. Away from your bed, away from your aura, away from myself, away from you, _away_. “To bed.” 

“Why?” Oh, the answers I could give! I drew a sharp breath, but then let it out slowly.

“I’m cold,” I said simply, realizing as I said it that it was true.

Looking down over my shivering form, he frowned for a long moment, then seemed to realize that he was still holding my hand and released it as though I’d burned him.

“Go,” he grunted with finality, turning his face away from me, his aura withdrawn inside him completely. I bowed clumsily, and fled. 


	7. Chapter 7

I rose late the next morning, much later than was my wont, even forgoing my private practice in the dojo before breakfast. Not only had the previous night been late, but my nerves had kept me from sleeping well even once I’d finally reached my own bed. Meditation had done little to soothe me; the disorder in my mind was too great. How could I be expected to act as though nothing were out of the ordinary, as though there had been no fire, as though I had not spent the bulk of the previous night in the lord’s bedchamber, as though we had not allowed our souls to touch each other, as though it were any other morning? I both dreaded seeing him again and wished for nothing more. Would anything between us have changed?

My back straighter and my head higher than was likely normal on a chilly spring morning, I made my way to the castle kitchen where I was greeted by Mayumi’s sunny smile.

“Good morning, child,” she welcomed me, as she always did. 

“Good morning, Mayumi,” I replied, with a rather desperate attempt at sounding casual. “Did you sleep well?”

“I did, thank you, child, but heavens, the excitement I missed while I slept!” she exclaimed, setting a bowl of hot rice and vegetables in front of me. She was far too engaged with her own thoughts to notice my own discomfiture, thank heavens! She shook her head, stirring a large pot emphatically. “Poor Sesshoumaru-sama was nearly burned to a crisp in his bed after falling asleep with a candle lit! And now he’s gone off again and we have all kinds of repairs to make upstairs while he’s away, and heaven knows how we’ll manage or when he’ll return.”

“Sesshoumaru-sama is … gone?” I gasped, a bite of rice forgotten on my chopsticks. My heart felt as though it had sunk into my stomach; the previously-appetizing smell of breakfast made me feel vaguely nauseated.

“Left just this morning,” she agreed, all bemusement. “Said he had some business in the north. I suppose he’s gone to parley with Yorozoku-sama; there’s always some intrigue or other with the cardinal lords. Perhaps it’s the same matter that had those guards breathing down our necks, though really who knows with the young lord – he’s always away to see to one thing or another.” She cast one sly glance over at me before continuing, “Though I suppose it doesn’t hurt that he’ll get to see Lady Kagura while he’s there.”

My mind was still reeling. Gone, and without a word. Was it because of last night? Because of me? Still, Mayumi clearly wanted to tell me something, and I couldn’t simply stare at her in a daze until I understood Sesshoumaru’s motivations! I took the bait. “Lady Kagura?”

“She’s a member of Yorozoku’s court, a wind youkai,” she confided, her voice low and conspiratorial. “And quite a beauty, as well. She’s something of a favorite of Sesshoumaru-sama’s – well, insofar as anyone can tell. He’s not terribly demonstrative.” I let out a strangled choke of laughter. Perhaps not, but what a demonstration I’d gotten the previous night! But a favorite in the court of the North?

“What is she like?” I found myself asking, even knowing as I said the words that I would not like what I heard in response. The thought of that beautiful, elegant, aristocratic youkai left something bitter gnawing at my chest.

“Oh, she’s elegance personified!” Mayumi carried on, utterly unaware of my discomfort. “She moves as gracefully as a dancer, and can float on the wind as easily as walk. She’s got beautiful glossy black hair, and her eyes are a striking red-violet. She’s tremendously strong, as well, and a fierce fighter –  I’ve heard she can even raise the dead to fight for her! And she fights with her fan, all stylized and beautiful as a dance.” She shook her head admiringly. “She’s a fitting match for the young lord, there’s no question of it,” she mused, “but then he’s never shown much interest in getting mated and settling down to have pups. But when he does, my best guess is that we’ll be welcoming Kagura-sama as the Lady of the West!”

As she spoke, my heart seethed like a stormy sea. I had thought, up until the very moment of Mayumi’s rhapsodic praise of this absent demoness, that all of my feelings for Sesshoumaru-sama were the gratitude of a well-treated subordinate. He was the lord of my house; I was a servant, an orphan, a _human_ in his domain and yet I had somehow forgotten that I meant less than nothing. With humans, I would always be wild, untamed, and frightening as a demon; with demons, I would always be inconsequential. And yet, the sickness in my throat, the clenching of my chest was so telling – did I _love_ the Lord of the West? Had I lost sight of my own place in the world so far as to harbor some hope that he might cherish me in return? I was horrified, disgusted with my own foolishness. I knew better; of _course_ I knew better. Until that moment, I hadn’t known the depths to which I could deceive myself without even being aware of it.

“Do you know when he’ll return?” I asked, resolutely focusing on the practical.

“No,” she sighed, “he’s unpredictable that way. And likely when he does return it’ll be with a party of nobles from Yorozoku’s court, and we’ll need to find a bit of extra help for a month or so while they stay – Katsura and I can manage when it’s just the family, as it were, but entertaining fine lords and ladies is going to require more hands. Formal dinners, preparing chambers for them all, keeping the fires burning, all the extra dishes and laundry!” She shook her head, then smiled in welcome to Katsura, who bustled in from the courtyard.

Katsura grunted at us in greeting, then settled opposite me at the low table. “There’s more we need to hire before then, too, to repair the damage to the young lord’s chambers.” She accepted a steaming bowl of food from Mayumi with a nod of thanks and set to, continuing around mouthfuls of her breakfast. “I’ve had a look at it, and frankly he’s lucky he didn’t burn the whole place to the ground,” she grumbled. “Falling asleep with a lamp lit … damned foolish way for a daiyoukai to die. Didn’t that nose of his scent the smoke?” She shook her head. I ached to defend him, but knew that I should not reveal I’d had any hand in the evening. I sat silently as they speculated idly about the previous night and the upcoming weeks, concealing my scent and hoping their keen noses hadn’t noted my turmoil and jealousy.

**

That night I sat up the library much later than usual. I had set myself a task.

First, I chose an untouched scroll and smoothed it out on the table in front of me. I ground my ink and laid out my lacquered box of pigments with all the dignity of a tea ceremony, taking particular care that everything be in its best form, no stray drops of color or splashes of ink. I washed my brushes thoroughly, and added just the right amount of water to the waiting paints.

In my mind’s eye, I called up the most beautiful woman I could imagine. Graceful as a dancer, with jet black hair held in an elegant updo by jeweled pins. Fierce red-violet eyes, large and luminous; a small, perfectly formed mouth. I painted her against a night sky, floating on the wind like a cherry blossom, supple, agile, her fans held delicately but wielded them with deadly efficacy. I used every bit of skill I had; I forced myself to dwell on every perfection I could create.  

I worked on the painting every night for two weeks. When at last it was done, I set it before and forced myself to look one last time; it was as near to perfection as my imperfect hand was capable of creating. She was a match for the Lord of the West.

On the night I finished it, I did not allow myself to sleep. I had further work to do first. I drew out one of Rin’s scratch papers, one that she had no further use for; I did not want to waste a fresh scroll. Turning it over, I lay it out before me and pulled from my sleeve the beautiful bronze mirror that had greeted me in my bedchamber on my first night in the House of the Moon, so long ago.

With coarse strokes in simple black, I painted what I saw, determined not to miss a single imperfection. A pale, thin face, with an expression too forceful for a woman; dull eyes, now monochrome and not even remarkable for their unorthodox blue; a mouth too broad, and pinched in bitterness; a brow too high, too creased; hair too unruly. It took me barely an hour to get a good likeness of myself.

With trembling hands, I lay the mirror aside and set the two paintings next to each other. Elegance and unsophistication; power and helplessness; extravagance and austerity; the extraordinary and the commonplace. This was what it meant to be human in a world of demons; this was my place. It was a lesson I would do well to remember – not just in my mind, which I trusted, but in my heart, which apparently harbored a wildness beyond what even I had foreseen. 

**

Weeks passed; tender shoots and buds peeked through mud and then burst into leaf and blossom, and still Sesshoumaru did not return. The garden came to life, and soon Rin and I spent afternoons together among the wildflowers.

The room where he took tea was silent and unused, as it was before he had arrived, but now it had a sense of waiting.

More than ever, I treasured my morning training sessions, the ones before Rin stirred from sleep, while the house was still dark and silent. I knew Katsura at least was aware of them – she was the only other soul I saw awake in the dark winter mornings – but it felt like the only time in my day when I was not observed, when I did not need to hide the tumult in my heart. I practiced wildly difficult katas, the ones we had only barely touched on at the end of my time with the monks; when those become second nature, I made up my own. I practiced my archery, honing my skills until I could pin a falling leaf to the trunk of its tree. I meditated, wrestling with my mind and forcing it into order. I did everything I could not to think of those golden eyes, of the caress of that strange, solitary aura against my own. I tried not to miss him.

I failed.

**

“Kagome-sama!” Rin’s cry rang out through the library. She spoke more than she used to, but it was still jarring to hear her speak without prompting.

She was standing at the window of the library, looking down at the courtyard. I sighed and lay down the scroll we were studying. She had been more distractible of late, as she seemed to assume that Sesshoumaru would be returning soon. “Rin, come away from the window. We’ll take a rest in half an hour,” I cajoled. When she remained staring down, I grew frustrated. “Rin, you will return to your seat,” I said, my voice stern. She turned without question and reluctantly and made her way back over to me, and I realized with a shock that my words and intonation had been very much like Sesshoumaru’s.

She returned to the table but didn’t sit down; she stood opposite me and squirmed. “But Kagome-sama!” she whined, a particularly petulant sound. I had opened my mouth to chastise her when she finished, “Sesshoumaru-sama has returned with a princess!”

My jaw dropped. Without a word, we both darted over to the window to see what we could from our perch. In the back of my mind I knew I was setting a poor example for her, but in the moment I couldn’t bring myself to care.

There was a small party crossing the courtyard, Sesshoumaru at their head, his long silver hair billowing behind him. Beside him was a slender dark-haired woman; I couldn’t make out much of her features, but she was wearing an elegant dancer’s kimono. It was white with magenta slashes, and echoed the markings on the Lord of the West’s face closely enough that I found it a little distasteful. A gaggle of others lagged behind; a dark-haired man wearing brown fur and armor; a redheaded young woman in a cloak of white fur; a man with a tuft of black hair standing out from grey; another with a plume of white hair that stood up like a fish’s fin from his otherwise bald head; a white-haired young woman – a child? – dressed in all white. It was a strange group, but they proceeded with the pomp of royalty; there was a pride to the way they carried themselves that indicated this was no hodgepodge of rabble.

In haste, I dismissed Rin from her lessons with a stern admonishment not to run to greet the group; she was to be on her very best behavior, and to act as much like a lady as she was capable of. She was not to speak until spoken to; she was not to see them until she was sent for. She nodded sadly, but perked up a little when I told her she could go pick out a favorite kimono to wear that night, when she would likely be introduced as the Lord of the West’s ward. She darted off, all smiles.

My own spirits were less resilient. I collapsed to my knees in the empty library, staring at the scroll-covered table without seeing it. Sesshoumaru had returned, with the demoness who was to be his lady. _My_ lady. The lady of the House of the Moon.

My eyes skipped involuntarily over to the corner of the library where I stashed my paintings. I wondered how much like my image of her she would be.

I sat there stupidly for a while until I heard urgent footsteps beating their way up the stairs to the seventh floor. I shook myself, and set about gathering up Rin’s scrolls and tidying the room just Mayumi burst in, red-faced and out of breath.  

“Kagome-sama,” she gasped, pressing a hand to her chest, her eyes wide. “Sesshoumaru-sama has returned with nobility from the North, and he wishes you to join them after dinner!”

My eyes widened. “But I know nothing of demon customs!” I protested. “Surely Rin is the only one who matters – I shouldn’t be there at all!”

“Just what I told him,” she agreed, shaking her head as though in disbelief. “But he told me that I was to listen to none of your protests, and that you were to attend tonight’s gathering no matter what.” She let out a shaky laugh as she guided me to my feet and led me out of the library and down the stairs. “We’ll work out what you’re going to wear, I’ll send you off for a bath, and then I’ll return to lend Katsura a hand in the kitchen. I swear, she has some kind of second sight – she sent off for extra help to prepare for the lord’s return just this morning, so we have enough hands, thank heavens, but there’s always more to do. And the way the lord just turns up unannounced and demands that people just fall into his schedule …!” She shook her head again, eyes crinkling with fondness. “His father was just the same – peremptory in that same way. But if I may tell you a secret, miko-sama –” here she lowered her voice and leaned in to me, “- it brings me joy that he does it, because it demonstrates his trust in us. He knows that his house will never embarrass him.”  

“I hope I won’t either,” I said in a small voice, overcome by nervousness. I could fight demons with no hesitation or fear – but _socializing_ with them?

Mayumi lay a motherly hand on my shoulder, the first time she had voluntarily touched me. Her eyes were kind when I met them, and she offered me a reassuring smile.

“You do not need to stay long,” she assured me. “Slip into the drawing room before they’re done with supper and choose a quiet place with Rin, then you won’t have to make a big fuss with an entrance. No one will pay you any mind. They won’t dare threaten you with the young lord present; you’ll be quite safe.”

 _My safety isn’t my concern_ , I wanted to say, but I kept silent. I nodded docilely as she chose the most plain and unremarkable of my plain, unremarkable kimonos, and cautioned me to spend extra time washing my hair, for it smelt strongly of Rin (who had, indeed, been braiding it during the morning’s breaks). She reassured me that one of the new maids, a trusted young grand-niece of Katsura’s, had already collected Rin and taken her off to the baths, so I should have privacy as I readied myself, and then scuttled back off to her duties, leaving me to my thoughts.

I bathed and dressed unthinkingly, my mind still a whirlpool of anxiety and jealousy and dread, with cresting whitecaps of desperate pleasure at the idea that I would finally see him again.

**

Rin was anxious and eager, and I spent some time calming her as we settled into our out-of-the-way corner to wait for the guests to finish dinner. Perhaps it was time to start teaching her meditation; I couldn’t have been much older when I began learning it. I filed that thought away, and we knelt quietly together, waiting.

Mayumi’s guidance had been excellent. We hadn’t been there five minutes before the doors opened and the guests swept in, all elegance and grace, completely ignoring us in our quiet corner. I was relieved to take a moment to observe. Reader, since I learned all of their names shortly after, I won’t bore you with my short-lived ignorance; I will introduce them here with what information I gleaned about them later on.

The first in the door was the group of wolves. The dark-haired male I had observed from the library was Kouga, chosen heir to the Lord of the North, and the red-haired female, Ayame, was the Lord’s granddaughter and Kouga’s chosen mate. They were clearly the leaders; the other two visibly deferred to them.

They were also beautiful, in their wild way. Kouga wore his long hair in a high tail atop his head, with a band of fur across his forehead over flashing blue eyes. He wore a steel breastplate, with brown fur epaulettes and kyahan leggings, and fur about his waist as well as a kind of short kimono. He had a handsome face, and his manner was forceful and self-assured. He looked ferocious, but not cruel; perhaps there was something a little thoughtless in his eye, but he did not strike me as a villain. His companion Ayame was a striking young demoness with two tails of sunset-red hair bobbing atop her head, one secured with a purple iris. Her eyes were vivid green, and sparkled with vivacity and spirit. I found that I liked her very much, although she looked a little petulant when her companion’s attention wandered to other things. She, too, wore armor with fur as a skirt and leggings, though her fur was white brilliant white and paired with a cloak of the same material.  Behind her lagged the two young males with the strange hair – the one grey with a black tuft, the other an odd white fin. They bickered amicably with each other and with the other male, but treated the female with utmost respect.  Their names were Ginta and Hakkaku, though in all honesty I could never remember which was which; there was never one without the other.

Behind them, a silent young woman named Kanna slipped in and stood, dark eyes wide, observing the room. Her hair was white, and decorated with white flowers, her face was pale, her kimono white, and overall she looked almost like a ghost. For a moment I frowned, not sure why I found her unsettling, then realized with a shock that she had no aura whatsoever. She was so inhuman-looking that I had no doubt that she was a demon, but to have no trace of an aura … I suppressed a shudder, and averted my eyes.

At last, the figure I had been waiting for swept into the room with the grace and poise of a princess, knowing that all eyes were on her. Kagura. Her lustrous dark hair was piled on top of her head and pinned with a bejeweled feather, just the right amount tumbling from its confines to frame her perfectly-proportioned face. She wore a silk dancer’s kimono, finer than any I’d seen before, still in shades of white and red that echoed the colors of the Lord of the West. Jade beads dangled from little elfin-tipped ears, and she had a fan tucked into her obi like a sword. She was everything I had dreaded and more – she was the most arrestingly beautiful being I had ever seen. By my side, Rin sighed in happiness.

Last of all was Sesshoumaru, who entered with all the ceremony befitting his station. My heart leaped into my throat, and I checked again that my scent was masked sufficiently that he would not be able to read my emotions. I would not allow him to know the effect he had on me.

The guests reclined around a long, low table, far from where I knelt with Rin, as Mayumi entered and poured the sake. Low voices began polite conversation, and brash auras jostled for dominance; I encouraged Rin to go and kneel at Sesshoumaru’s side and return to me after she had been introduced.

“A human?” came the cry from Ayame, who had a certain disgust on her pretty features. “Good heavens, my lord, what on earth possessed you to take a human into your care?”

Sesshoumaru lifted an elegant shoulder dismissively, and Kouga broke into a fanged grin. “Well, she’ll do for a snack if you ever tire of her, I suppose.”

Kagura leaned forward and said in louder voice than necessary, “What a precious little doll!” She smiled, showing pointed teeth, and I saw Rin’s back stiffen. Kagura did not notice, and turned her attention to Sesshoumaru. “But what in the world do you _do_ with her?”

“She has a tutor.” I could only see Sesshoumaru’s face in profile, but there was no flicker of expression, no hint of emotion, and his eyes didn’t one turn to me. I realized suddenly that he had retreated into the coldness that I had first seen of him: the impeccable, implacable lord.

“Ugh,” shuddered Kagura with caricatured revulsion. “Tutors. Kanna, do you remember the first one that father inflicted on me?” The white-haired girl nodded silently without smiling. Kagura turned to Sesshoumaru and said in a stage whisper, “He should have known better than to try to put a small-fry kappa in charge of me. I killed her during our second lesson.” The wolves all laughed and praised her.

“You should be wary of tutors, Sesshoumaru,” she continued when the commotion had died down. “They are without exception dull and unexceptional creatures who desire great favors and recognition for their mediocrity.” She looked deliberately at me. “And if you keep a _human_ as your ward’s tutor, you’ll never be able to train the weakness and stupidity out of her.” She tossed her hair, jade earrings swinging, as the rest of the table chorused their agreement.

The conversation drifted to other topics, and Rin retreated to my side, looking a little sad and shaken. We were being ostentatiously ignored, so I broke etiquette far enough to take one of her hands in my own and press it reassuringly. Her watery eyes met mine, and she made a brave attempt at a smile.

For another quarter hour or so I sat observing them as they spoke of their triumphs in battle, their hunting skills, their quests for greater power. Kagura’s wit was sharp, and she dominated the conversation with easy grace. Despite her undeniable beauty, there was something about the keenness, the sharpness of her red-violet gaze that spoke to me of cunning and manipulation. She canted her head and laughed, but the movement struck me as calculating, done to highlight her long, elegant neck and the sweetness of her voice rather than out of any true amusement. Every movement she made, every word she said, highlighted her beauty or her cleverness or her prowess in battle – and her suitability to be one of the cardinal ladies.

Sesshoumaru, meanwhile, was virtually silent, a pillar of immoveable dignity. The others deferred to him, feared him, respected him; not a glimmer of his humor or his brilliance broke through his façade. I couldn’t bear to watch much more; he was so foreign like this, so unlike the demon I thought I knew. I caught Rin’s eye, nodded at her, and the two of us slipped quietly out of the foreign gathering, and back to the blessed silence and dark we’d come to think of home. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double-length chapter this week! It was meant to be two, but it didn't seem right to divide them. Back to normal-length chapters next Saturday, I hope. Thanks so much for reading! -LABT

I saw little of Sesshoumaru in the coming weeks, and when I did see him, I rarely got a glimpse of anything other than the cold, flawless lord. I missed him more now than ever; far more than when he was simply away. To have him so close, and yet not to have so much as a word with him, nor even so much as a glimpse of him as he truly was … it was a torment beyond longing. Once, only once, I passed him in the hall and he gave me a look that was so unguarded, so unapologetically his authentic self, it made my heart leap into my throat and left my hands trembling. But then he was gone, and I did not see that side of him again.

Sesshoumaru had made it clear that while Rin’s lessons were to continue on their usual schedule, she and I were expected to attend the mid-afternoon and after-dinner gatherings with the guests. It suited Rin well; the youkai soon realized that she was a particular favorite of Sesshoumaru’s and nothing was to be gained by insulting her, so she was treated a bit like a favored pet. I thought that perhaps the fondness that Ayame and Kouga demonstrated for her might even have been genuine.

For me, however, those hours were torture. I knelt in the corner, my aura suppressed almost entirely, my scent concealed as well as I could manage without being rude – I didn’t want to seem like I had anything to hide, but I also did not want these strangers to know just how excruciating their company was to me.

Sesshoumaru held court with his usual lofty reticence. Kanna watched silently with big, dark eyes. Ayame and Kouga and the other two wolves talked mostly among themselves. Kagura exulted.

There was no question that he was treating her with special favor. In his played part as implacable lord, he spoke little: occasional soft “hn”s of agreement or disdain, a perfectly-chosen single word here and there. The two of them made a fine pair, I admitted sadly, with her charm and gregariousness and his reserve. Her extravagant beauty with his understated elegance; her sharpness and wit with his caution and silence. And what they shared, too! She kept her aura a little bigger than was really polite, but it was a constant proclamation of her remarkable power. There was something a little ferocious about her, as well; a heartlessness so intense it was almost cruelty. She was very much the demon, and from what I understood of demon customs, she would make an excellent Lady of the West.  

**

One morning, Sesshoumaru was not at the formal breakfast, and Jaken was left with unenviable task of informing the party that their host would not return until after dinner that evening. Kagura’s disappointment sent him careening out the door with a well-timed blast of wind, and her petulance soured the mood for the rest of the morning. I was grateful to escape with Rin to our lessons.

In the late afternoon, forced again to return to the company of those who so despised us, I sat silently at the edge of the drawing room, with Rin at my side peering out the window that overlooked the courtyard.

“Sesshoumaru-sama has returned!” she cried suddenly, drawing all eyes to her. Kagura was at the window in a flash, sharp eyes keen on the courtyard below.

Her face twisted with disappointment and irritation. “Idiot girl!” she cried, whirling and advancing on Rin, who was backing away from her. “You can’t tell one white-haired youkai from another?” She raised one slender hand as though to strike the child.

Her hand was not given a chance to fall. My aura roared to life around me with the power of a bonfire, engulfing me and Rin in holy flames.

Kagura staggered back a step, shocked, before her eyes narrowed in fury. She drew her fan from her belt and snapped it open with a practiced flick of her wrist.

“Dance of blades!” she cried, sending crescents of razor-sharp wind in my direction.

I was far too angry to be frightened. I stepped in front of Rin and drew up a barrier over us; the blades shattered, sending useless shards tumbling to the ground. My mind was whirling -- I was unarmed, and could not fight back. But I would be _damned_ before I allowed that demon to think she could manhandle or discipline the child in _my_ care.

My aura was expanding steadily, and pressed hard against all of the demonic auras in the room. The wolves were looking uneasy, and retreating towards the door; I ignored them. I had never released my aura in full, not since I was 16 years old and far from the pinnacle of my spiritual growth, and I did not intend to do it with her if I could help it. Nonetheless, I would see to it that she would never raise her hand against Rin again.  

“Dance of the dragon!” Kagura cried, and suddenly there were tornados flying at us, lifting the fine furniture of the drawing room and smashing it into walls. My barrier held, immoveable as stone, as chaos raged around us, dust and debris and bits of furniture and wall all swirling together in a tumultuous sea. From the corner of my eye, I could see that the wolves had turned one of the tables on its side and were sheltering behind it – good.

At last I saw my opportunity. A lamp stand, a tall slender piece of yew, had been caught in one of the whirlwinds and was careening towards me. I left Rin safe in the barrier and stepped forward into the wind.

Kagura’s power was phenomenal; I felt like I was being torn apart. My hair escaped its pins and writhed about me like a living thing, whipping at my eyes and cheeks. And the noise! The wind was roaring like a beast, like a monster. Nonetheless, I raised my hands, and the lamp smashed into them. The pain was dizzying – I wondered if perhaps it had broken my right hand – but I managed to hold onto it, and imbue it with my holy power. Now we were on equal footing.

A blade of wind broke through the vortex of wind and debris. I broke with my makeshift staff before it decapitated me, but not before one of the shards slashed my shoulder as it disintegrated. She was using her tornados as a smoke screen. I had to stop her; I would not be able to parry every blade she threw at me if I couldn’t see her. I centered myself, ignoring the pandemonium surrounding me, sent a shockwave of holy power through the room.

The wind quieted with breathtaking suddenness, all the whirling bits of broken furniture freezing then falling with a clatter – and there she was. Kagura had her back against the outer wall, her fan poised for further attacks.

I did not give her the time. Before she could move, I was upon her, my makeshift staff at her neck, blazing like a torch with my purifying power. For a long moment, she was stiller than stone in the sudden, eerie silence.

“Purify me, then,” she spat, “ _miko_.” The word sounded like an expletive in her mouth.

“I will not harm a guest of my lord’s house,” I answered, my voice calm and even, my weapon still held to her throat. I pressed it forward until she craned away from me to avoid the flickering burn of my power. “But neither will I tolerate any violence towards his ward.” With all the dignity I could muster, I lowered my staff, recalling my aura inside myself and allowing the barrier around Rin to fall.

I turned my back to her, knowing in my soul that she wouldn’t dare attack me from behind, not with the wolves and her sister watching. Her pride was far too great, especially wounded as it was by losing a fight to a mere human miko.

I lay a reassuring hand on Rin’s hair, and the little girl smiled up at me with a sunny confidence that made my heart swell. She was safe. She _felt_ safe; she trusted me. For the first time in a long time, I felt as though I were doing something right.

Rin and I set about righting the furniture and piecing the room together as best we could, and after a moment, the wolves joined in. They seemed suddenly to be much more comfortable with me, and Ginta and Hakkaku both smiled at me and treated me with a certain friendly deference. Ayame’s smile was more open, too, though her expression soured a little when she caught Kouga grinning in my direction as well. It occurred to me suddenly that perhaps they were relieved to know my strength as a way of placing me in Sesshoumaru-sama’s pack – before they’d had no read on me, as a human and an outsider, but now they were better able to understand me, my place. I had nearly forgotten that the demons I was dealing with were primarily pack animals.

Before we’d done much more than righting a few tables, however, the door slid open and pale, trembling Mayumi dropped into a low bow in the doorway, her forehead pressed against the floorboards.

“My lords, my ladies, the lord Inuyasha and his retainer, Myouga,” she said, her voice muffled against the mats.

Behind her stood a young inuyoukai, with long silver hair and amber eyes. The resemblance to Sesshoumaru ended with his coloring, however; he was of a more muscular build, shorter, and with no markings on his face – and he had ears on the top of his head like a dog’s. _Hanyou_ , I thought, remembering a lesson with the monks. Half-demons tended to show more animal characteristics than full-demons. He appeared to be alone, however; behind him, Jaken was scowling and muttering portentously about how no one should admitted without Sesshoumaru-sama’s express permission. The half-demon shoved him roughly with one foot.

“Keh,” he spat. “I’m not going anywhere til that bastard gets back.” Mayumi visibly winced, and Jaken railed all the louder from the hallway. The brash young man rolled his eyes.

“Good afternoon!” came a tiny voice; all eyes focused on a space towards Inuyasha’s bright red suikan where something small was bouncing. “Please forgive our intrusion, lords and ladies; I am Myouga, retainer to the late Inu no Taisho, father of the lord of the West.” A flea appeared to be practicing diplomacy from the hanyou’s shoulder. I brought a hand up to my forehead; this is what my life was like now. The flea continued, “We are very grateful for your hospitality, and hope that you will allow us to intrude upon you until such time as Sesshoumaru-sama returns from his sojourns.”

Inuyasha had been staring around the room with tactless – if honest – curiosity. “What the shit happened in here – you people been having dominance contests?”

Kouga let out a bark of laughter. “You might say that, yeah,” he agreed, stepping forward. “Little miss miko here reminded us all that she’s not to be underestimated.” His eyes slanted over to me appraisingly – approvingly? “Some of us were getting a little above ourselves and she just reminded us to behave like guests.” The wolves laughed their agreement.

Kagura was glaring daggers at him, and Kanna stared at the rest of the group in the expressionless silence that was her custom – but the wolves ignored their coldness, and gathered around the newcomers with warm welcomes.  

Mayumi raised her still-pale face from the floor. “Please allow me to show you to another sitting room for your evening’s entertainments,” she murmured, rising gracefully and leading us all down the hallway and into a nearly-identical room that had already been lit and furnished with tables and fine cushions, refreshments already laid out. Eventually even Kagura recovered her dignity and her good humor, and swept into the conversation with her characteristic grace and imperiousness. And with that, the party simply resumed as though nothing had happened.

I shook my head. I would never understand demons.

**

That evening after dinner, we all sat in one of the drawing rooms. Inuyasha and Kouga were of a type; brash, loud, belligerent, and fundamentally good-hearted, as I read them. Myouga seemed quite at home flattering the ladies and generally endearing himself to all. They were kind enough to Rin, which was most of what I cared about, though Rin lingered back with me more than was her wont because of Sesshoumaru’s absence.

Not long after dinner, as Jaken was serving a second round of sake, Mayumi came to the door, looking pale.

“Jaken-sama,” she murmured, her voice pitched to avoid interrupting the conversation. It was no use; everyone turned to look at her right away. Their ears were too sharp, and their minds too nosy. “An old woman has come to the door, and will not leave until she speaks to the ladies of the house.”

“Send her away,” Jaken squawked irritably.

“She will not go,” Mayumi repeated, more urgently. “She says she is a fortune-teller, and she has refused to budge from the door.”

“Throw her out bodily,” was Jaken’s answer, just as Kagura was saying, “A fortune-teller! What fun!”

All eyes turned to Kagura, who beamed at the assembled group and said, “Let’s have her brought in! It will be a diversion while Sesshoumaru-sama is away.” Her eyes sought out Mayumi, and her voice turned hard. “Bring her here.”

Mayumi bowed and disappeared, an agitated Jaken chasing after her, shouting about improprieties.

After Mayumi had gone, the commotion in the room exploded. Ayame refused to see the fortune teller, claiming that either the woman was a fraud and it would be foolish, or else she was a witch and Ayame wanted nothing to do with her. Kouga coaxed and teased and encouraged, and finally sighed dramatically and said, eyes twinkling, that if she was really too frightened then they shouldn’t try to force her. With a face like a thundercloud, Ayame slammed her cup down against the table and stormed over to the door. When Mayumi came to announce that the fortune-teller was ensconced in a small sitting room down the hall, Ayame marched into the hallway without waiting to be led. Kouga and the other wolves laughed.

Within moments, all the demons in the room had fallen silent, their ears cocked (Inuyasha’s even twitched atop his head!). Rin and I looked at each other – it didn’t take demonic hearing to hear the cries of shock and the wild giggles.

After a few minutes, Ayame dashed back in, face flushed and eyes dancing. “It’s true!” she cried, darting over the Kouga. “The things she knew about me – things no one could know!” She shook her head and turned to Kagura. “It’s great fun, just like you said, Kagura-sama!”

Kagura rose, smiling with what appeared to be great satisfaction. “I hope I have as good a fortune as yours!” she laughed, allowing herself to be led off.

The demons all listened in the silence that followed, but eventually Kouga shrugged and said to Inuyasha, “Must be a listening charm on the door,” and they turned their attention to their own conversation.

Kagura was gone much longer than Ayame had been. I took opportunity to shepherd Rin off to bed, and when some half hour later I passed by the same hallway again, Kagura was storming out of the smaller room, her face white and her jaw set in – anger? No, I realized, not anger: fear. Who was the strange fortune-teller, and what had they told her?

Mayumi appeared at my elbow in the dark hallway, startling me out of my abstraction. We stood nearly in the door of the sitting room where the demon company had gathered; warm light spilled through the open door and bathed my feet in radiance.

“You’re next, miko-sama,” Mayumi said, her voice low.

“No thank you,” I answered, shaking my head, noting that Kouga’s handsome face was watching me keenly through the open door. “I wouldn’t presume …”

She shook her head obstinately. “The fortune-teller has asked for you by name. You must go.” Her eyes were urgent, pleading. I had a sense that she knew more than she was letting on.

“Oh, just _go_ ,” Kagura snapped from inside the room, out of my line of vision, making me start. “The sooner she sees the ones she’s determined to see, the sooner we can get rid of her.”  It seemed that I was being left with little choice. I followed Mayumi to the smaller drawing room.

The old woman was seated at a low table shrouded in a bulky hooded robe, a cup of steaming tea before her. The fire behind her had burned a little low; it was dim, and her face was shadowed. The elegantly-painted wall at her back was in tatters, and leaking cold air from the room behind. The crescent-shaped scars looked like the marks of Kagura’s dance of blades, which I had seen just that morning – but the fortune-teller herself seemed placid and undamaged.

As I inspected the wall, she grinned, showing several missing teeth. “The lady Kagura was displeased with some of what I had to say,” she said in a voice like an oak tree creaking in the wind. “And even less pleased to find that her attacks did not harm me.” She gestured across the table. “Sit, Kagome-san.”

I knelt opposite her, and waited.

“I know you,” she began without preamble. “I can see your power, warrior-priestess that you are. You have tremendous strength concealed within you, despite your attempts to appear ordinary.”

“You know little of me, and I am uninterested in your fortunes if reading my aura is the best you can do” I said, with a game attempt at indifference.

“Ah, a disbeliever! I can see more than your aura, miko-san.” I had the uncomfortable feeling that she was laughing at me. “I see your manners, as well, which are distinctly un-human. Perhaps you have grown too demon-like to live happily among your own kind?”

This gave me no pause; I knew it well. “I do not require the approbation of other humans.”

“Ah, but you are young,” she countered. “One day you will want a husband, a family. What will you do, a human woman too wild for human company?”  I felt my jaw clench, but allowed no further sign of how deeply that stung. The thought had occurred to me, of course; I was not a fool. But I well knew that that was a happiness that would never be mine – would never have been, even before my time in the House of the Moon. But now more than ever before, I would never settle for anyone less than the one my heart had chosen, so it was impossible that I would ever marry. I knew that my fate was inescapable.  

“I have no desire to make myself fit for human men,” I said cautiously. _Not that any human man would ever glance at me twice,_ I thought, _but even if he did, he would never please me._

“Ah, so it is a demon you seek to entice.”

 _It is._ “You misunderstand me; I will change myself for no one.” _I want him – him and no other – to want me as I am. But that can never be._

She let out a wheezy croak of laughter. “‘But who would want me unchanged’ is the question I see on your face, is it not, my self-effacing priestess? Kagura would have no such qualms. Tell me, miko-sama, what do you think of her?”

 _She is beautiful and powerful and utterly beneath him_. “She is beautiful and powerful.”

“Indeed, and an excellent match for the Lord of the West.”

“Sesshoumaru-sama makes his own choices; I wouldn’t dare speculate.” _She is not his equal._

“Ah,” she cried, “but you would dare! I see the wildness in you; I see your disdain for the lady Kagura. I see your pride, and all those strong, unfashionable opinions – and more than that, I see your loneliness, your longing. I see coldness in your heart where the fire of hearth and home – lovers, family – should be. Tell me now, child, do you believe me now?” _Close, far too close!_

My heart was in my throat. “You have given me no reason to believe or disbelieve,” I said calmly, keeping my voice matter-of-fact. “The things you’ve said would likely be true of any human in a demon-house. And in any case, you seem to be trying to draw information out of me rather than offering it to me, which strikes me as poor fortune telling.”

“So cautious!” she cried, applauding. “So wise. Well, little miko, if you won’t play, perhaps the time has come to end the game.” She stood, suddenly looming over me. I withdrew, startled, ready to fight, until a deep voice came from behind the painted screen wall – Sesshoumaru’s voice.

“Crumble.”

Obediently, the woman before me vanished into a puff of dust, a doll in a roughly human shape made of dry sticks clattering down inside the empty cloak as it whooshed softly to the floor. I stared at it, bemused, then looked over sharply as a screen slid open and the Lord of the West strode in.

“It was you, my lord?” I began, surging to my feet and nearly leaping over the bundle of sticks in my eagerness to make my way to him. My heart was at war: seething about how nearly the deepest secrets of my soul had been revealed, but also turning somersaults with the pleasure of seeing him, seeing him _alone_ – seeing the true him.

“Did you not suspect me, miko?” His low voice sounded amused, and there was a crinkle at the corner of one eye; he was very pleased with himself. I smiled, overwhelmed by relief that he was not playing at his imperious coldness with me. But what a cruelty, the way he had behaved!

“I suspected some trickery, my lord; there was something false about her without question, but you were not the one I anticipated to discover behind it.” I drew a deep breath – I didn’t think I’d embarrassed myself too badly, so perhaps it was of no great consequence. “Nonetheless,” I continued the sentiment of my thoughts, “it was a mean trick. Where have you been?”

“Mostly arranging this charade,” he answered with a shrug, as though being interrogated by a servant was the most natural thing in the world. “I had a piece of information I wanted to impart to Kagura, but I could not come from me. So I sought out an old tanuki friend to help me create this golem, and shield her from all assaults save the commend to undo the enchantment, and let her be my mouthpiece. It served its purpose well enough, I think.” He scowled at me for a moment. “You smell of blood. Are you injured?”

“I’ve finally learned what’s required to establish one’s place in a pack of demons,” I said flippantly. My hands still ached, in addition to the angry gash on my shoulder, but I would not allow him to drag me off my course. “So you sought a way to get at Kagura – and I was caught in the crossfire?”

“We will discuss your injury later. I wanted to have a private word with you before returning to the others, but then when you arrived you looked so very serious – I couldn’t help but tease you just a bit.” He took my chin in one clawed hand and tilted my face up to meet his eyes. “Can you forgive me,” he murmured, then with special emphasis – “ _Kagome_?”

I drew my chin out of his grip. “I said nothing that I regret,” I answered with some defiance, “but it was unkind of you to try to trick me into sharing things with another that I would not have shared with you.”

“I am a demon,” he reminded me softly, taking a step closer to me. The difference in our heights meant that I had to crane my neck back painfully to meet his eyes, or else take a step back. “Kind is not in my nature.”

“Nonsense,” I said with some exasperation. Drawing my power up between us, I created a small barrier with my purity and expanded it, shoving him back a single step so that I could meet his eyes in comfort before dropping it. “You can be very kind. And never mind your kindness – this is all to say that this trickery was beneath you.”

He was staring at me in open shock at my defiance, then he _laughed_. The low, musical sound was like nothing I had ever heard before, and my heart clenched so abruptly that I saw stars.

“In any case,” I continued, desperately clinging to the appearance of dignity, despite being somewhat scandalized by my own behavior, “I don’t know how you intended the lady Kagura to feel about the information, but it seemed to have affected her. She was not herself when she returned to the company afterwards.”

He had gotten his countenance under control, and his gaze sharpened with interest. “She didn’t seem dismissive of what she had heard?”

I shook my head emphatically. “She seemed angry, and perhaps a little afraid.” I met his eyes, hoping for some sort of clue. “What did you tell her, my lord?”

He smiled a particularly feral smile. “It was brought to her attention,” he rumbled low, “that the West was aware of her complicity in the plot against Rin, and of her ongoing tryst with Kai, the pretender to the throne of the North.”

My jaw hung slack. “You knew this?” I cried. He lay a long finger against my lips, the sudden touch of skin on skin igniting my blood and making my fingertips tingle with adrenaline.

“Demon ears,” he breathed, nodding towards the door. “I have a charm against eavesdropping on the door, but it’s not strong enough for shouts.” He removed his finger from my lips, leaving fire behind. “I did not know; I suspected. I invited her here to see what I could learn about who else might have been involved; I am at least content that the other key players in Yourouzoku’s court are innocent. I knew tonight, when her actions following the ‘witch’s’ words confirmed it.”

I shook my head. “Such machinations,” I said wonderingly. I thought of all the people waiting in the other room for Sesshoumaru’s return, and was grateful for their innocence. I had grown rather to like them, particularly the wolves. 

“Oh!” I gasped, remembering. “Did Katsura or Mayumi tell you about the newly-arrived guests?”

“Newly arrived?” he asked, his eyes sharpening. “And allowed in?”

“They arrived this afternoon, and insisted on waiting for you until you returned,” I explained. “One of them was a servant of your father’s, a flea named Myouga, and the other looks like a hanyou – he gave his name as Inuyasha.”

“Inuyasha?” he snarled, with a look of such fury that I recoiled. He turned from me abruptly, bracing both hands against an elaborately-laquered chest that stood in the corner and leaning against it, his hair falling like a curtain between us so that I could not see his face. “Inuyasha!” He spat the word like nails, claws gouging long furrows in the lacquered wood. “He knows what he endangers by coming here—!” he started, but cut himself off. For a long moment we stood in silence, him absorbed in whatever dreadful thought was consuming him, me in an agony of impotent anxiety.

“My lord?” I asked at last, drawing tentatively up to his side.

“Kagome,” he murmured, standing upright and turning to me, his face paler even than its normal alabaster. He raised his hand as though to caress my cheek, but hesitated, then let it fall without touching me. He looked away again. “What if I lost all my wealth and power, and the regard of my peers? What if all of my allies were to forsake me?”

“What of it, my lord?” I asked, unsure of where the conversation was leading us. “Your wealth means nothing to me, and I don’t know or care about your peers and allies.”

There was something hungry, desperate in his eyes as he turned back to me. “Would you take my part, even if all the world turned against me?”

I had no hesitations. “I would.”

“Kagome!” he murmured, voice low enough that I barely heard it. “It is enough, more than enough – it was too much already that you saved my life on the night of the fire; I do not deserve your devotion.”

I shook my head adamantly, but said no more, my heart in my throat. What danger could threaten as great a demon as Sesshoumaru?

Rising to his full height, he tossed his hair behind him and straightened his armor. “You will bring Inuyasha here,” he stated with his usual imperiousness. “And after that you may return to the party or go to bed, as you choose.”

I bowed and slipped back into the gathering, getting the attention of those eerily-similar golden eyes and guiding their owner to Sesshoumaru, then slipped off to silent reflections upstairs.

**

The moon was high and bright when I woke from my sleep to a blood-chilling cry.

I threw on my training clothes and darted from my chamber, belting my hakama as I ran. My room was on the third floor; the cry had definitely come from above. The fourth floor was mostly tea rooms, dining rooms, and ballrooms; the fifth floor was where the guests were staying. I made it to the fifth floor just as the others were gathering in the hallway. One, two, three – all eventually emerged from their chambers, looking confused and angry. So it was not one of them. 

Sesshoumaru was descending from the highest floors of the castle like a pillar of moonlight.

“You will be calm,” he said, his voice soft and menacing. Everyone instinctively quieted so that they could hear him.

“Oy, what happened?” called Kouga, voice abrasive.

“A servant had a nightmare, and cut the one who tried to wake her; she was attempting to fight off an imaginary attacker in her terror. All is well.”

“That smelled like more than a cut’s worth of blood,” Ginta groused, with Hakkaku chorusing his agreement. Kagura and Kanna stood silently, side by side, watching the proceedings with sharp eyes.

“She is being cared for,” was Sesshoumaru’s only response. He stood unmoving at the foot of the stairs, clearly waiting for the group to disperse.

“Fine,” huffed Ayame, pulling her sleeping yukata tighter around her. “Come on, you lot.” The wolves reluctantly followed her to their end of the hallway, and they parted ways, each returning to their respective room. Kagura and Kanna withdrew, as well, though Kagura cast a suspicious glance over her shoulder before retreating into her chamber.

I hesitated, unsure whether or not Sesshoumaru required my help. I met his eyes, and he lay a finger against his lips. I nodded, and after a moment of listening, he crossed silently over to me and scooped me up in his arms.

My heart had nearly leaped out of my mouth when he first touched me, but I soon understood – of course the others’ demonic hearing would catch my clumsy human movements, but he was silent as a cloud on the stairs leading up to the topmost levels of the castle. 

“Not a sound,” he breathed into my ear, the heat of his breath on my neck making me shiver. I nodded against his shoulder. Up to the sixth floor, up to the seventh and the library, up. We passed his room, its door now looking as though the fire had never happened. There was another stair – a ninth floor. When we reached a certain door, he set me gingerly on my feet.

He raised one hand and pressed it forward until it connected with a bubble of shimmering golden light – a barrier! 

“It will let us through now. Quickly,” he whispered, and gestured to the door. I stepped forward, feeling the foreign caress of youki on my skin as the barrier washed over me, and slid open the door.

I stifled a gasp as Sesshoumaru slid the door shut behind us and pressed a hand to the barrier again. Inuyasha was laid out on a futon in front of me, and there was blood everywhere. He had a large wound on his left shoulder, that was bleeding freely through a makeshift bandage, and a gash on his right side as well as a smaller one on his right arm. Not only was he covered with blood, but his wounds were seething with reiki, the purity burning away at his skin. The wounds were worsening by the minute.

Dropping to my knees, I tugged at the red fabric of his suikan and undid the bandage over his shoulder, making him screw up his face and hiss. I wished I had gotten there sooner, that I could have stopped some of the purification from spreading. My hands shook.

“Oi! Sesshoumaru, get this crazy human off me,” he grunted, his voice roughened with pain.

Sesshoumaru crossed the room in a few short strides, and dropped to one knee beside the futon. Carefully cutting the sleeve off the red suikan with his claws, he said quietly, “You will be silent. You will not utter a word to this one’s employees.”

“Keh,” came the ill-tempered answer, but he made no further attempt to speak.

Sesshoumaru met my eyes. “I must leave you with him, but I will return. Do what you can for him, but ask him no questions.”

I nodded. Healing. I knew how to heal. This was a duty I was well-equipped for.

Sesshoumaru handed me a scrap of white linen, then fetched a basin of fresh water down from atop a dresser. Without another word, he was gone.

I set to work. The first step was removing the recalcitrant reiki from his wounds, so I sank into a near-meditative state and laid my hands over the worst.

The moment I touched the wound, I nearly recoiled from the reiki I felt there. It was without a doubt the same as the one that had sealed Sesshoumaru into sleep on the night of the fire. This time, though, it felt like the living embodiment of hatred, unalloyed by empathy or kindness. It felt like the aura of one of the animalistic beast-youkai, like the boar I had killed as a child. I shuddered, and drew it out of the wound bit by bit with sheer strength of will.

It was tenacious, and by the time I had withdrawn all of the reiki from the worst of the injuries, I was exhausted. The hanyou, meanwhile, had worsened; hs face was grey and he was sweating profusely. I sponged gently at his shoulder with the damp cloth, wringing the cloth into the basin until the water was as red as the bed. There was a clean slit of a wound, obviously made by a blade, but beside it was a ripped crescent of flesh – teeth. I imagined Kaede biting him with some kind of feral ferocity, then drawing back with the lower half of her face all stained red. Bile rose in the back of my throat, and I shuddered. I tried not to think of it again.

Methodically, not allowing myself too much time to consider, I cleaned his shoulder thoroughly, bandaged it, and turned my attention to the gash on his side. I drew the reiki out of that wound, cleaned it, and bandaged it. Then the arm – reiki, cleaning, bandage. I was bone-weary, my spiritual energy as depleted as my physical energy. Sesshoumaru still did not return.

When at last I had done everything in my power, I sat back on my heels, and the situation landed on me with dizzying weight. The cruelty, the brutality of the attack was staggering – and this was the being that Sesshoumaru-sama hid from the world, up above his own bed?

I don’t know how long I sat in deathly silence with the young hanyou who was sworn not to speak to me. He drifted in and out of consciousness, sometimes groaning softly, sometimes looking at me with desperate longing, sometimes shrinking from me as though I were a ghost. Inuyasha’s breathing was shallow and labored, but I was hopeful that he would recover well; I had been told that demonic regenerative powers were tremendous, even in half-demons. Nonetheless, his wounds were grave.

The castle around me creaked and settled, the wind howling low around us, high up as we were. Once, just once I heard a low laugh like I’d heard the night of the fire – this time much closer, as though just on the other side of the wall. I jumped, my heart pounding in my ears, but the noise did not repeat, and no stranger touched the sliding door.

The sky was beginning to pale when Sesshoumaru returned, Myouga in tow.

“It was quiet while I was gone,” he said softly, fixing the barrier behind him after he entered. I was grateful that I could recognize when he was asking me a question.

“Yes, my lord. I heard someone laughing once, but only once.” 

He knelt by Inuyasha’s side. “He will be gone before the rest of the house awakens.”

“Gone?” I gasped. “He can’t be moved – he mustn’t be moved, my lord! His injuries are far too severe.”

“He will be moved,” came the cold answer. Seeing my frown, his gaze softened a little. “Miko, undo the first of your bandages and see.”

I did so, and found the wound to be nearly healed. He was still suffering from tremendous blood loss, but the injuries themselves would cause him no trouble. I sighed, relenting, and re-dressed his wounds for travel.

“You will listen,” Sesshoumaru said to the prone hanyou in low, threatening tones as I was finishing my work. “You will leave here and not return. Your visit has done enough damage.”

“Keh,” was Inuyasha’s answer, as his ears twitched uncomfortably. He still sounded groggy. “You know why I came. I had to see – I had to see her. I had to know if there was any … hope.”

“You have seen her now.” There was a silent reproach in Sesshoumaru’s tones that did not go unnoticed. 

“I didn’t expect her to attack me!” Inuyasha spat defensively, his accompanying jostle undoing a knot that I’d been struggling with. I puffed my breath up into my bangs and yanked the fabric back in place, holding the half-demon in place with a knee to the ribs. He grunted, eyes flickering to me, and then sighed. “Anyway, how did she even get a knife?”

“She didn’t appear to need one to injure you.” 

“Shut up, asshole, you know I couldn’t fight back.” He drew a trembling breath as I finshed retying his bandage. When he continued, his voice was low. “She bit me, you know – said she’d drink my blood.”

“You were a fool to see her alone.” For once the half-demon had no response. His eyelids drooped; he was teetering on the edge of consciousness again.

Without a word, Sesshoumaru lifted the other man into his steel-strong arms and carried him to the window. Inuyasha woke and flailed once, wildly.

“Oi! Bastard! Put me—”

“You will be silent,” came the quiet hiss of Sesshoumaru’s words. “You will cease your struggling, or this one will _drop you_. Do you understand, whelp?” The other man’s protests died.

I followed them to the window, then drew back with a squeak when a pair of scaled faces met my gaze. There was a two-headed dragon at the window! On the _ninth floor!_

At a soft word from Sesshoumaru, the dragon turned to bring a large saddle even with the window. Sesshoumaru deposited Inuyasha onto it – none too gently, I might add – and then made sure to flick Myouga onto Inuyasha’s lap. Inuyasha’s head lolled back; it was clear that he would sleep as soon as he stopped forcing himself to converse. I was glad. A long sleep was likely just what he needed to finish healing.

“Take care of her, Sesshoumaru,” Inuyasha murmured thickly.

“Silence, half-breed,” came the quiet answer, no real anger in his voice.

“You should be kinder to your brother, Sesshoumaru-sama,” came the tiny voice of the flea.

 _Brother?_ My eyes flew open wide. Was it possible—?

“Half-brother,” said both of the inuyoukai at once, Inuyasha without even opening his eyes.

Myouga let out a chirping little laugh, then hopped onto one of the dragon’s heads to guide it off. “Don’t worry, Sesshoumaru-sama, I’ll take care of Inuyasha-sama!”

“Hn,” Sesshoumaru grunted, then turned away from the window as the dragon flew off to the east.


	9. Chapter 9

Sesshoumaru led me out of the bloody room, down the hall, through a dark, unused sitting room, and finally out onto a balcony just as the sun began to peek over the horizon and paint the tops of the trees gold. Below us, the forest stretched out towards the mountains, a glittering ribbon of river dividing the wild land in the west from the rice paddies and low-lying farmland far to the east. I had never been so high off the ground before; the view stole my breath.

“It has been a strange night for you, miko,” Sesshoumaru observed softly.  

“Kagome,” I reminded him automatically. It had; my head was swimming with exhaustion, and I was sore all over. I raised a bruised palm to press idly at the wound on my shoulder. Healing myself required much more reiki than healing another, so I had left it be. It hurt.  

Sesshoumaru scowled. “Show me.”

Remove my shirt? I could feel my face heating. “It is of no consequence, my lord.”

“You will show me where you are injured.” His voice brooked no opposition.

“Here,” I said, pointing to my left shoulder without uncovering it, feigning indifference despite my mortification. “It’s just a cut, nothing to be concerned over.”

“Kagome,” he began, his voice deep and authoritarian. “You will show this one your injury.” I shook my head adamantly; I could not simply disrobe in front of him! He let out a low sigh. “I am inu,” he said at last, reluctantly, as though sharing a great secret. “I am a pack animal, and the alpha of the west. Allow me to care for a member of my pack.” He met my eyes with his earnest golden ones, and my unspoken protests died. “Please.”

I bit my lip, my heart thundering in my ears. Such a request! Yet how could I refuse him? I turned my back to him, tugging at one side of my gi to free it from my hakama, and pushed it off my injured shoulder. The bandage I’d tied around was dark with dried blood, and stuck painfully to my skin as I removed it. When I turned back to him, holding the neck closed tightly for as much modesty as I could manage, his eyes were keen on my shoulder.

“Who.” The word was more growl than anything else. I glanced down; the gash was bleeding again.

“It doesn’t matter,” I said, my voice fainter than I would have liked. He shook his head once, coming so close to me I could feel the heat radiating off him in the morning chill.

“Kagura.” It was not a question. “This is the mark of her dance of blades.” He flicked his eyes back up to my face. “Why?”

I felt like drawing back – he was so near! I stayed resolutely still, though, unwilling to give even an inch to nervousness – either through defiance or desperation to be near him, I wasn’t sure.  

“She was going to strike Rin.”

Sesshoumaru bent low, closed his eyes, and pressed his mouth to the wound. 

I nearly jerked back from him at the sudden fire that raced through me, but a stone-strong arm held me in place. When had he put his arm around me? He was laving the wound with his tongue, and sparks of pain and pleasure mingled with the electric skitter of youki against my skin. The gentle drag of his tongue against my tender flesh was like nothing I had ever felt before. I bit back a moan.

Overcome by the overwhelming sensation, I whimpered a little when at last he drew back. His eyes were dark, and reddening at the edges; I could see that he was near the point of transforming into his beast form. For a long moment we stood looking at each other, both breathing heavily, me clutching my shirt to me in the morning chill. He had his back to the rising sun, and his shadowed form was outlined in a brilliant silver halo where the sun struck his hair. 

Abruptly, though, he released his hold on me and turned away, and I hastened to redress myself. I looked down at the wound as I was pulling my gi back on properly, and gasped out loud.

“It’s healed!” It had entirely disappeared, leaving only a pale pink scar.

Sesshoumaru did not turn. “I produce a rather powerful poison in my claws, and my saliva carries the antidote,” he explained. “That antidote has some general healing properties as well.”

“So you didn’t need me last night after all,” I said softly, tugging the last of my clothing into place and stepping up to stand by his side against the railing of the balcony.

“You were indispensable,” he answered, eyes slanting down over me. “My own healing powers do nothing against reiki, and in any case I needed to see that the danger was contained, then fetch the dragon, Ah-Un, with Myouga. Ah-Un was my sire’s chariot-steed, and Myouga had secreted him away far from the House of the Moon. He has never trusted me with my father’s legacy; he prefers Inuyasha’s company.”

“I didn’t know you had a brother,” I said quietly, desperately curious but not wanting to pry.

“Half-brother,” he corrected. “My sire’s bastard by a human princess. My dam left in disgust when she discovered his … proclivities for humans.” His eyes were far away, tracing the outline of the distant mountains. “Inuyasha and I have not spoken in fifty years. His coming here has nearly destroyed everything, and may yet if he’s not wise enough to keep his mouth closed.” He shook his head.

“Is there nothing that can be done?” I asked, turning my back to the sun and facing him.  “Is there no way to contain the danger, to mitigate the risks to yourself and your position?”

“Contain it!” he snarled, claws gouging into the wood of the banister. “Miko, I have spent decades trying to ‘contain the danger.’ If it were a simple matter, it would be done.”

“Is there nothing I can do?” I knew as I said the words that they were foolish. What could I do? A human, a weak, foolish, young human woman – what could I offer this ancient, powerful youkai?

For a moment he stood in silence, visibly wrestling his anger. At last, he turned to me, and with a sharp edge of wariness in his voice, he asked, “Why do you wish to help me?”

“I am – I am your friend,” I stuttered, taken aback. I couldn’t tell him what he truly meant to me, but I also could not lie to him and say that it was merely the duty of a faithful servant. “I am your ally, for as much good as I may do you.”  

His expression softened, something dangerously close to a smile settling on his countenance. He sighed, and returned to my earlier question. “No, little ally, there is nothing more that you could do than you have already done.” His eyes settled on the mountains again, pale face glowing in the bright morning sun. “There is nothing anyone can do, except hope that someday I will be released from this burden. Have I not done enough?” The last words felt as though they were more to himself than to me, and I had no answer.

For a long moment, we stood in silence. Far, far below us, I heard a clang; Katsura was beginning the preparations for the day’s meals.

He sighed again, rolling his shoulders and looking up at the sky, as though stretching after a long sleep – the wordlessly scooped me into his arms again. This time I couldn’t restrain a squeak. 

“Perhaps you might consider _asking_ next time!” I sputtered at his low laughter, my face hot. He shook his head without answering and vaulted off the edge of the balcony, alighting on the third-floor balcony, just a few doors from my room. I clutched at him, burying my face in his shoulder to protect my eyes from the wind, too startled even to cry out.

“You will bathe before breakfast,” he stated, all seriousness, as he set me down. “You must rid yourself of the smell of the half-breed’s blood.”

And the scent of his touch, I added in the privacy of my own thoughts, inexplicably saddened. Nonetheless, I nodded, knowing that in either case the outcome was the same; I needed to bathe before interacting with any of the other demons. Sesshoumaru gave me one last, long look, then took off again into the morning sky. 

**

Exhausted as I was from the previous night, I was not given a chance to rest. After a bath and a change of clothes, I found my way to the kitchen to find a gaggle of newly-hired young women gossiping while Katsura stirred a pot and Mayumi chopped herbs nearby, both clearly listening intently.

“—and he says that she’ll stay in the House of the Moon until the whole delegation returns to the North!” cried a young demon with a tangle of rust-red hair.

Kagura was to stay? I gasped, horrified. What of Rin’s safety? The women hadn’t noticed me come in; they were far too busy gleefully chewing on this most recent morsel of information.  

“And what’s more, he’s still going to mate with her!” the russet-haired young demon continued in an exaggerated whisper, to squeals and gasps from the others. The room spun around me briefly; I lay a hand on the rough-hewn kitchen table to steady myself. “Even though he said that she had been trysting with Kai, that young firebrand in the North, she’s been to him this morning and I heard her swearing up and down that she had no knowledge of the plot against Rin.”

“But that doesn’t mean he’ll _mate_ her!” cried one of the young women, a stocky young wolf with pale blonde hair and silver-grey eyes.

“Well, you see, I was – I was listening at the door as Kagura-sama was begging the lord for forgiveness, and when he came out, he—” The young demon sent an abashed glance over at Mayumi and Katsura and she coughed, just once. “He caught me.” Mayumi’s face was like a thundercloud, but the young woman barreled on, addressing the rest of her words directly to Mayumi. “He didn’t seem too angry; in all honesty ma’am I’ve never seen him look so – _pleased_ with himself. He told me that perhaps he’d keep us all on for a mating ceremony, then off he went.”

How could he mate her, even knowing what she was? How could he allow her to become the Lady of the West, protector of his people, guardian of his ward? _How?_

“You all right there, miko-sama?” Katsura’s voice jarred me out of my horror. I gave her my best approximation of a smile, and opened my mouth, not knowing what was going to tumble out of it.

I was saved the trouble of answering, though, when all the youkai turned as one towards the east, on full alert. I felt the press against my aura not even a moment later; there was a monk at the gates.

**

A cluster of guards stood in a respectful semicircle behind Sesshoumaru at the front gate when I darted out into the courtyard. In front of him stood a man with a black robe and a domed straw hat pulled low over his eyes, and he walked with a staff. He stood with his back straight, but his aura gave him away; he was terrified.

I crossed the courtyard in long strides, too anxious to be seemly – I had run straight out, stopping only to grab a bow and quiver from the dojo. The man practically wilted with relief when he saw me. He bowed low.

“Miko-sama,” he greeted. “Ungai-sama has requested that you return to the temple for a few days.”

“What?” I gasped, utterly perplexed. “Why in the world—?”

The monk shrugged uncomfortably, casting wary glances at the ring of powerful demon warriors. “He was gravely injured in battle, and has requested to speak with you before he leaves this world. I only hope that we are not too late; he thought that you had gone to the north, and I have been searching for you for weeks.” His face was impassive, but there was an unmistakable reproach in his tone. I felt a twinge of guilt despite myself.  

For a moment, the monk and I regarded each other. My mind was spinning. I did not want to leave my new home, not to return to the place where I had been beaten and humiliated for the bulk of my life. I did not want to leave the side of the man I loved to return to the one who hated me.

I turned to Sesshoumaru. “My lord, I request a leave.”  The man I loved was committed to another, and the man I hated was on his deathbed. My duty was clear.

Golden eyes sharpened, and his forehead creased; he was displeased. “You are required here.”

How I wished I were as indispensable as that! “Rin will enjoy a few days’ rest,” I said softly, “and with you here, she will be well-protected.”

“You are weary.”

I was exhausted. “I will manage.”

“You have nothing prepared for a journey.”

Nothing could prepare me. “I need little; we can hunt for food, and have no need for finery.”

Finally, he turned his eyes away. “You may do as you choose.”

I bowed. “Thank you, my lord,” I whispered. With that I gathered my courage, and turned my back to the west with a heavy heart.

** 

The monk and I did not speak on the road, and I was grateful for it. Still, three days’ silent travel wore on me, especially with my companion’s aura seething with a disgust so intense it bordered on fear. I desperately wanted the whole ordeal to be over.

We reached the shrine around sunset on the third day. Very little had changed – those gates, those walls, all were as familiar to me as my own hands. I felt the weight of fifteen years of history heavy on my shoulders – all the degradation, all the beatings. _Ungai_.

Ungai was laid out on a pallet in his room, his face grey and his breath rasping like a metal file on stone. Two young monks were kneeling in front of him, sustaining him with their reiki.

I knelt silently between them. He knew I was there – my aura was unhidden – so I waited until he acknowledged me. He didn’t look threatening anymore, I mused; he looked thin and ill, those hands that had struck me so many times now almost skeletal against the rough coverlet. At last, Ungai opened his eyes and grunted a quiet “dismissed,” and the young monks withdrew with haste that bordered on indecorous. I wondered with grim amusement who frightened them more, me or Ungai.

“It took Genta too long to find you.” How well I remembered that tone! The promise of violence, the recrimination, that hid in those flat tones. _How different_ , a small voice in my heart whispered, _from the wildness – and gentleness – that hides behind Sesshoumaru’s impassive façade!_ Both men hid their true selves behind masks of dignity and pride, but there the similarities ended.

“I did not go north,” I answered, knowing there was no point in hiding the truth from him. “I took a position as a private tutor in the house of a demon-lord.”

“Ever wild,” he sighed, sounding exhausted, but he still had the strength to look disgusted. “And now defiled, as well. Tell me, then, has your curiosity been sated?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And what have you learned?”

“You were wrong,” I said simply.

He closed his eyes. When he spoke again, his voice was strained – it sounded as though he were trying to snarl at me, but did not have the strength. “Enlighten me.”

“Everything you taught us about demons is wrong.” My voice was not trembling; I was strangely, disconnectedly calm. “They are no more wild and cruel than humans. Some of them are criminals, all of them are flawed, but they are not monsters any more than humans are.” 

He turned his head to glare at me. “You _fool_ ,” he spat. “I knew you to be weak and wild, but I always thought you were too clever to be taken in by demonic ruses.”

I did not answer, but in that moment I pitied him deeply. This poor, weak man, this man who had dedicated his life to a cause he believed just – of course he could not accept the truth now, as he lay dying. It would rob his life of meaning. I bowed my head.

“I did not call you here to hear of your wicked, profane life,” he said at last. “I will be dead in another day, and I must clear my conscience. I hope that a lifetime of sacrifice to shelter and train a new generation of demon-hunters will outweigh my weakness, but – I have wronged you.”

I blinked. Never in my wildest dreams had I expected an apology.

He waved a weak hand to the desk on the wall. “Fetch the letter you find there.” I did, and knelt obediently by his side again, a scrap of parchment in hand.

“Read it aloud.”  

“To the most honored and exalted of monks, the respected Ungai—I write to you today because I have heard of your great generosity, and your reputation for taking in orphans where you find them. Ten years ago, I left my daughter and her two children at our family’s shrine to spend a year in the service of the Daimyo. When I returned, I discovered that our region had been stricken by plague, and the shrine was empty, save a pair of unmarked graves. Over the last decade I have inquired fruitlessly of many others; you are my last hope. Most respected sir, if you have the information I beg you to share it: who of the three still lives, and where might I find them?”

The paper dropped from my insensible fingers. I had a grandfather – I had a family! And he wanted to find me!

“Ten years ago – but I was only three when you found me,” I said softly. “This letter must have been written—”

“Five years ago,” he agreed. “I wrote back to your grandfather and told him that there were no survivors, that you and your brother shared one of those unmarked graves.”

I recoiled from him in horror. “Why?”

“I hated you,” he said simply. “And you were too valuable. I could not lose you in our holy war. You are a tremendous weapon.”

“You have lost me despite your lies,” I murmured as his eyes drifted closed.

“My life has been a series of decisions, Kagome-san,” he said sadly. “Many of them bad. But I hope that when my years are measured, whatever goodness I have in my heart will outweigh my weakness.” My heart broke for him; he had done his best to be a good man.

“May it be so,” I whispered, and after a long moment of kneeling in silence, I rose and left him alone.

Ungai died that night, his last confession completed. I stayed an extra three days, chanting with the others as his body was lowered into the rich earth, damp as it was with spring’s new growth.

At long last, the ritual completed and my duty discharged, I was free of him.

**

I returned to the West with a troubled heart, considering my future. My days away – far more on the road than in the shrine – had given me space to reflect in a way I did not have when Sesshoumaru was near me. I craved his presence more than anything else in the world, but I couldn’t think clearly when he was near. So in those nine days, I thought.

My primary decision was that I needed to find a new position. I had been working in the House of the Moon for perhaps eight months; I would ask Jaken for my salary, and would ask Mayumi and Katsura if they knew of any other houses where a tutor was required. Perhaps eventually I could earn enough money to found a small school – a place where orphans and poor children could learn without being indoctrinated the way I and my counterparts were.

More than anything, though, I needed to be well and truly gone from the House of the Moon before Kagura entered as its lady. We would need to find a place for Rin; perhaps acting as the apprentice to a village miko? Given her love of plants and flowers, perhaps she could study herbalism and healing.

As I approached the castle, I was so lost in my musings that I did not feel an aura brush my own.

“You have returned.” Sesshoumaru’s deep voice startled me out my thoughts. I looked around me wildly, seeing no one; his aura was too well-hidden for me to use it to locate him. Without further warning, he dropped from the upper branches of a tree, landing in a crouch just next to me.

“Of course I’ve returned,” I answered, a little bemused. “Were you waiting for me?”

“You took too long.” I flushed with pleasure. Had he missed me?  

“I am glad to be back, my lord.”

“You do not wish to stay with your own kind.”

I flinched, a little stung. Did he still see me as nothing more than a holy warrior, just one like all the others? “They may be humans, my lord, but they are not my kind.”

He smiled then, it felt like the sun coming out after days of rain. I had never seen anything as beautiful. My heart ached, physically ached, at the thought that I must leave him forever – and at the thought that he would marry another.  

He drew close to me, his aura flaring around us; my own rose in response, and I allowed it to tangle with his again. I closed my eyes, feeling the caress of his soul against my own, and fought back tears.

“They are not your kind,” he said at last, his voice low. “You are nothing like them.” A clawed finger stroked my cheek, the electric tingle of his youkai on my skin now achingly familiar.

I was at war. Reader, I loved him so dearly, so intensely – this moment was like a glass of water set before a soul dying of thirst. I had never wanted anything so much. At the same time, he was to be married to another – and even if Kagura had never come to the House of the Moon, even if there were no rival for his affections, he was a demon lord and I a human priestess with no wealth or lineage. Offering me hope was unbearably cruel.

In the end, it was my defiance that won out. I opened my eyes and deliberately drew back from the touch of his hand.

“My lord, I would ask you to not be so familiar with me; it is unseemly.”

He was so close! He looked down at me with an expression of such ferocious longing that I shivered.

“Why is it unseemly, little miko?”

“Because you are going to be mated to Kagura.”

“The beautiful Kagura! She will make a fine figure at the head of the West, will she not?”

I drew a shaking breath. “My lord, I will ask you for nothing more, but please – I beg you to find somewhere for Rin to study before Kagura enters your house as its lady.”

He scowled. “You will remain as her tutor." 

“I will not,” was my defiant, unhesitating answer. I met his eyes, my heart brimming with desperation and anger. “Rin must not be left in Kagura’s care, and I will find another situation.”

He caught me by the elbow as though I were going to dart off into the woods right then. “You will not leave.”

The dam inside me broke. I used my holy power to yank my elbow out of his steel-strong grip, leaving his fingertips smoking. “Do you think I have no feelings? Do you think that I can stay here and watch you marry another? Do you think that just because I am human, because I am poor and insignificant, because my life is so short compared to yours, that my life has less worth – or that I can live by simply _watching_ everything I want without ever being able to have it?” My aura was rising around us, now, more of it than I had ever released. My hair was whipping around my face, and I realized my cheeks were wet with tears. Before me, Sesshoumaru’s hair and haori were billowing as well, as his aura answered mine. In a moment of raw fury, I made my decision, and released my aura in full.

Sesshoumaru gasped, his eyes flying wide. His aura roared up in answer. It strained and stretched, but had no more reserves to call upon – it was fully released.  For a moment we stood, our auras pressing against each other, neither one able to subdue the other.

“I am your equal,” I said softly, with as much dignity as I could muster. “No, I am your better, because I will not stoop to marry someone who is beneath me.” I shook my head. “I will not stay to watch you debase yourself; and I will not torment myself with what can never be mine.”

“You are my equal,” he murmured, raising a hand to my cheek again, “and I am yours.”

It took all my strength to draw back; I knew that I must not allow him to touch me. “I must go.”

He scowled again. “You will not leave.” He reached for me again, but I pushed him back with my aura.

“You cannot stop me.” I felt all my power flowing through me then, my aura stretching around me, measureless as sunlight. “I _will_ go, and I will live a life where I can be true to myself.”

“Kagome.” His voice was low and dark, and my desperate pride faltered at the sincerity in his eyes. “Kagome, you are my equal – you are my match, my mirror, my second self. I will not mate another. For you alone I have plotted and planned; you alone see me for my true self, and do not despise me. Please—” here he knelt before me on the leaf-strewn ground, the better to look up into my face, “please don’t leave.”

I was stunned beyond thought, beyond words. After a long moment of strained silence, I managed to whisper, “You—you are mocking me.”

“I am not,” he answered, raising his hand to my cheek again. This time I did not resist. His hand slid into my hair, the warmth of his palm on my cheek sweet enough to make me weep. “I will have no other but you.”

I opened my eyes, and felt tears stream down my cheeks. “Can you really mean it? Even though I am penniless – even though I am a miko – even though I am human?”

“Why should I care if you are penniless? I have wealth enough. Why should I mind that you are a miko? Your power is unquestionable; you will make the House of the West stronger.” His thumb was sweeping across my cheekbone, wiping away my tears. “Why should I care that you are human? You are my choice, and you alone.” He drew my head down just a bit, and leaned forward to press his lips to my forehead.

“Kagome,” he whispered. “Will you have me?”

 “If you truly mean it—” He nodded once, gravely, and it felt like my heart burst. I threw my arms around his neck, and he clutched me to him like a drowning man grasping a rope. “Yes,” I whispered into his hair. “Yes, forever, for always, _yes_.”

He rose abruptly, with me still clinging to him, and I squeaked as the ground fell away beneath my feet – he held me up like a child and whirled me in a delirious circle. I laughed as he set me down on the ground again, and before he could pull away I boldly took his face between my hands and pressed my lips to his.

Reader, I have no words for this kiss. Our auras were still free around us, winding around each other and tangling together in an intimacy like I had never felt before; his hand was in my hair, on my waist, and everywhere he touched me I felt like I was on fire. At long last, he drew back, and his eyes were lit with joy like I have never seen before.

“Come,” he said softly, breaking the silence. “Let’s go home.” At my nod, he lifted me into his arms and shot into the sky, and took me home to the House of the Moon.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early update this week! I'm busy tomorrow, but managed to squeak this in under the wire. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing -- your reviews make my day every single time! -LABT

It was well after dinner when Sesshoumaru and I returned to the castle, and he left me on the third-floor balcony with a kiss then vanished like a ghost. I couldn’t bring myself to go down to the kitchen and face the others, even though I knew I should eat; I was afraid to sleep, for fear of waking to find it was all a dream. I spent the night alternating frantic joy with dread that I had somehow misunderstood him, that he didn’t want me after all. The sun rose on me still pacing my small room.

My thoughts were interrupted by a commotion in the courtyard. Peering out my window, I saw the whole party from the North – all four wolves as well as Kanna and Kagura – setting off with a train of servants with their accoutrements. A little bewildered, I ran to the third-floor balcony for a better look.

As I stood with my unbound hair whipping around me, all the demons turned; I realized too late that my scent was unhidden. Kagura appeared somewhat surly, but composed; Kanna was emotionless as always. Ayame, Ginta, and Hakkaku all gave me friendly waves, which I returned with some confusion; Kouga looked up at me with a cocky smirk on his handsome face and blew me a kiss (to raucous laughter and a few punches on the shoulder from his male companions). Together they turned, and headed north. 

Perplexed, I withdrew inside, just as Sesshoumaru was coming to find me. He smoothed my flyaway hair and tucked it behind my ear with a long finger.

“They’re leaving?” I asked without preamble. 

“Indeed,” came the answer. “Kouga is needed in the North in any case, and I was not eager to delay him.”

“Do they – know?” I asked, unable to put words to what had happened the night before.

“No, my miko,” he murmured, drawing me into an embrace. My knees were trembling – this was _real_. I sighed against him and closed my eyes. “I did not want to cause needless strife with the North.”

“Strife?” I asked, my voice muffled against his haori.

“Can you imagine Kagura’s reaction?” he asked with a low chuckle. “I’m not sure the castle would survive it.”

I laughed too – the beautiful Kagura, rejected in favor of a homely, orphaned, penniless human priestess! Unthinkable. 

It didn’t occur to me until after he’d kissed me, eyes dark with longing, and left me alone to ready myself for the day, that if we were to spend the rest of our lives together – _my life_ , I corrected myself with some sadness – surely I couldn’t remain as Sesshoumaru’s shameful secret forever. Surely.

**

As the temporary help in the kitchen and housekeeping prepared to scatter to their homes, I wrote to my grandfather in Edo. I told him that I was alive and well, reported Ungai’s dying confession to him, and noted that I was in the service of a great lord in the West, as tutor to his ward. I did not mention that my patron was a demon. I hated myself for the deception, but given that my grandfather must have been the patriarch of our shrine and likely a Shinto holy man, I hesitated to shock him with too much strange news at once.

One of the young women from the groundskeeping staff – a blessedly human-looking young demon with jet-black hair and big brown eyes – was visiting her cousin near Edo before returning to her home in the West, and agreed to deliver my letter for me. I paid her more than was probably necessary, but how I wanted that letter to find its way to my grandfather! The tantalizing hope of a family, combined with my sudden discovery that the man I loved best in the world loved me back, had me in a near-delirious state of incandescent happiness. It was hard to think clearly about anything.

The summer months passed like a dream. Rin and I maintained our schedule of lessons, but my evenings were full of conversation and affection. Sesshoumaru determined that we were to be married in the fall, in a private ceremony like the ones I’d heard whispered of by the girls at the shrine.

Sesshoumaru, in the meantime, positively _showered_ me with gifts. Every night I would return to my room to find a new jeweled hairpin, a vase of foreign flowers, cosmetic boxes, shells with fine paintings on the insides, handscrolls, hanging scrolls, silk slippers, a shamisen I had no idea how to play, bone-bladed daggers, exotic furs, hand-embroidered kimonos so fine I was afraid to touch them. I used none of them, and as my room filled, I took to storing them in an unused sleeping chamber down the hall from my own.

At last, I begged him to stop. I was not a fine lady; I knew nothing about cosmetics or courtly music, and had never worn silk in my life.

“You will accustom yourself to finery,” he rumbled with a distressing finality. I threw up my hands and stormed away.

His gifts did not slow, but they did become more pointed. A _maki-e_ box of rare paints with cloud-soft weasel-fur brushes; a strong yew bow strung with unbreakable moth-youkai silk, and arrows fletched with phoenix feathers; a white kimono with a pattern of red cherry blossoms cascading across the left shoulder, an unmistakable echo of his own favorite haori. These I treasured, though even they made me uneasy. I wished to spend my lift with Sesshoumaru, beyond question; the thought of living without him left me breathless and dizzy, with a sharp ache in my chest. But would I have to accustom myself to an utterly foreign lifestyle? Would he want me to act as Lady of the West? I felt utterly unprepared, and Sesshoumaru would not speak with me about what duties my new life might entail.

**

As summer gave way to autumn, and my breath left puffs of cloud during my morning practice in the dojo, I noticed that Mayumi and Katsura were acting more reserved around me.  We had never been true confidantes, but this new reticence left me uneasy; there was a wariness to their glances, almost a pity, that left me anxious to clear the air. 

At breakfast one morning, before Katsura returned from her morning rounds, I could bear it no longer. As Mayumi stood by the stove grinding seeds in a mortar and pestle, I asked her outright – with my usual gracelessness – what was wrong.

For a moment she paused her work and stared at me in consternation, taken aback by my tactless question. Then she sighed, and said softly, “Kagome-sama, please – I don’t wish to cast aspersions on the young lord or his intentions, and certainly not on you or your judgement, but …” She paused, a deep frown creasing her brow. “Demon-lords are not in the habit of mating humans, especially not mikos.”

I felt immediately defensive, but tried to temper my instinct; I wanted to listen. “He said that we would be married – he told me loves me.” I realized as I said it how weak I must have sounded. How many women had been wooed to disgrace and ruin by words of love? But this was _Sesshoumaru!_

“And he may well,” she said placatingly. “But I simply want you to be on your guard. Demons don’t grant immortality freely; it is a heavy burden on them, and on their chosen.”

My jaw hung slack for a moment before I recollected myself. “Immortality?”

She quirked an eyebrow at me, then her eyes widened with some realization. “Did he ask you to marry him, or to be his mate?”

I blinked. “Is there a difference?”

Mayumi stared at me for a moment before bursting into laughter. “Heavens, child, have you no idea what mating a youkai means?” At the shake of my head, she smiled ruefully and sat down opposite me.

“In the moment of mating, the energies of the two beings are mingled and redistributed – permanently. In the case of two youkai, their youki blend together, and the weaker party is strengthened. It does weaken the stronger, though, so it is a point of pride among youkai to mate the very strongest partner who will have them. When a youkai mates a human, on the other hand –” she shook her head. “Half of their youki leaves them, to fill out the empty vessel of their partner. So the human will add centuries, millennia even, to their lifespan, but in most cases, the demon will lose centuries of theirs.”

I was gaping at her in wonder and horror. “I had no idea such a thing was possible! I never learned anything like that in the monks’ lessons.”

“Indeed, it’s something we don’t often share with humans,” she agreed, smiling at me fondly. “We have no desire to have humans hunting the weaker among us to use us as their own personal fountain of youth.”

I nodded absently, still reeling. There was a chance I might live out the rest of my life beside him, and not age and die while he remained young?  

With sudden clarity, I remembered Sesshoumaru’s words, and I returned to Mayumi’s earlier question with a sinking heart. “He asked me to marry him,” I said softly.

Mayumi lay a gentle hand over mine; her eyes were kind. “I will not pretend to understand the young lord’s plans, miko-sama. But I would advise you to be cautious, and to distrust your own heart. I do not want to see you hurt, and I fear—” She stopped herself abruptly and pulled her hand back. With a sigh, she heaved herself up and returned to the stove. “Just—be careful, Kagome-sama,” she added softly without looking at me.

“I will,” I answered, my heart full of confusion. 

**

I went to Sesshoumaru straight away, before my lessons with Rin, planning to ask him about the logistics of mating. I would be bold; I would be frank. I steeled myself for rejection.

I found him at last on the balcony of the sixth floor, gazing out at the sky with distant eyes. He did not turn when I approached, and for a long moment we simply stood together in silence.

“Miko,” he said suddenly, his posture unchanged but his eyes suddenly alight with mischief. “I have a gift for you. Stay here.”

Before I could formulate a response, he had vanished over the side of the balcony. I gaped after him, but barely had time to collect myself before I heard a sound behind me and whirled to see him alight on the balcony again.

“Katsura and Rin have been informed that Rin’s lessons have been cancelled and that she is to be guarded while we are away.”

“We are – away?” I asked stupidly. “Where are we –”

I was not given a chance to finish my sentence. He scooped me up in his arms and launched himself from the building, and suddenly we were flying.

I buried my face in his shoulder as we ascended to keep the wind from snapping my hair into my eyes. When I felt the wind subside, I pulled back from him to look around. There a bite to the air that warned that an early snow might not be far off, and the ground was flying beneath us at a dizzying rate. We were headed for the mountains, going faster than I even thought was possible. Within moments the miles had passed, and he was alighting on the ground with the grace of a dancer.

He set me gingerly on my feet, and I looked around me in wonder. We were in a half-wooded glade at the foot of a mighty waterfall. It cascaded down the rocky cliff-face with such a roar I could hear nothing else, feeding a pool with waters so clear I could count the rocks on its bottom. The pool stretched out into a lazy river, its unhurried current in stark contrast to the wild abandon of its source. The river led off to a great gap in the trees, where I could see the country stretching out far below us, and beyond the Western lands, the sea. We must have been near the pinnacle of one of the highest mountains.

Sesshoumaru took my hand and led me to one of the trees; he took a seat at its roots, holding out one arm to encourage me to sit beside him.

“Sesshoumaru,” I began, settling into his shoulder, “What is entailed in a youkai mating ceremony?”

For a moment he looked horrified – frightened? – and furious. Before I could be sure I had read his face properly, though, it was back to its customary implacable calm. “Who told you about mating?”

I shrugged noncommittally, unsure whether it would get Mayumi in trouble if I told him. My face was flaming, but I bit my lip and simply waited for an answer.  

His eyes shifted away from me and to the rush of wind through the trees above us; he seemed uneasy. “We will discuss this again in a few years; mating is nothing to rush into.”

“What do you want of me in the meantime, then?” I asked, my voice small, withdrawing a little from his shoulder.

“Are we not to be married? Is that not what you desired?”

How I hated myself for wanting more! “Marriage is for humans; we do not live among humans. What will a human marriage mean in a demon house? Will demons see our marriage as a valid partnership?”

He sighed. “You will be my consort – my companion, my advisor, my ally.”

“Then the answer is no.” I shook my head, my heart in my throat. “This marriage – it means nothing to you, to Mayumi and Katsura – to Kagura all those like her, it will be nothing?” When I met his eyes, they were filled with a desperation that rent my heart.

“Do you not wish to stay with me, Kagome?” he murmured, his voice low and pleading – so unlike the imperious lord! “You alone see me as I truly am – with you alone can I speak and act without I have spent my life suppressing my strange humor, my flippancy, wearing the mask of the implacable ruler in order to impress my betters, to control my peers, to terrify my enemies and those weaker than me. My whole life has been a sham to honor my father’s name, not to live for my own purposes.” He drew a breath, and I’d have sworn I heard it catch in his throat. I had a sudden vision of a small child growing up surrounded by adults who never saw them, who berated them any time their own personality peeked through the armor of manners and affect that the learned to wear. Tears pricked at the backs of my eyes, and I wasn’t sure if it was for him or for myself.

He caught my hands between both of his own, drawing me back into the present, before continuing. “Yet somehow you, a little human I could break between my fingers – you saw _me_ , not my mask. How can I help but love you? You and you alone are the one I want by my side.” My heart swelled in my chest – never, never had I expected to hear those words, and in a tone of such sincerity! He leaned down to kiss me, then, and you may call me weak, but I sank deep into the kiss, allowing my concerns to be soothed. I did not wish to further trouble the time between us, now when he had gone to such pains to give me a day like no other.  

We spent the afternoon on the mountaintop, talking of little – Sesshoumaru showing me a rare autumn-blooming flower, a view of the sea stretching out to China, a draught of the sweetest water I had ever tasted from a hidden spring. With no one to see or judge us, we allowed ourselves to do the things forbidden at the shiro – our auras released in full, with no one to frighten; our conversation teasing and familiar; fleeting caresses and lingering kisses. I had never experienced such freedom.

When at last the air grew too cold for my human form to bear, he wrapped me in his pelt and bore me home in a sphere of light. It was the finest gift I had ever received.

**

That evening, back at the castle, I considered what he had said. I believed him – I believed that he loved me, that he wanted me. He would not lie. And yet …

“His consort,” I mused out loud.

  _His whore_ , said a voice in my heart. 

I shook my head. That was far too uncharitable. Had he not showered me with gifts, with praise, with affection? Had he not said that after our marriage, we would eventually be mated? Our wedding day was rapidly approaching. Why should I doubt him? When had he ever deceived me?

 _With the golem fortune-teller_ , said the same voice. _You know he is not above lies and deceit to get his way._

He was ruthless, it was true. But the sincerity in his eyes – the way in which he hid his true self from all but me!

 _If he has a self that you alone see, and everyone else sees another,_ the voice mused, _then which one is his true self?_

No, I thought. I too have led a life of hiding my true nature; I was certain that Sesshoumaru and I shared that. I knew what it felt to have your true self denied, shamed, laughed at.

I realized suddenly, too, that I was being ungrateful, and asking far too much – eternity was a tremendous gift to demand of someone. How could I wish my own company on him for the rest of his long, long life? It would be unfair to anyone.

But the thought of living my whole life by his side – growing old, dying – with him never aging a day – could I live out my life like that? I shook my head. Sesshoumaru had said that in a few years we would be mated. It made sense that he would wish to wait. It was a tremendous commitment, to bind himself to me forever. We hadn’t even known each other a year; despite our intimate conversations, perhaps he wanted more time to be sure we were compatible as equals rather than as servant and master, the way things had always been.

I took a deep breath. I was overthinking the matter; Sesshoumaru would not lead me astray. He loved me – that much I believed. I trusted him – that was irrefutable. That was enough. Wasn’t it?

**

That night, I slept fitfully, torn as I was between delirious happiness and a building sense of dread and foreboding. I dreamed of a new life in the castle, now bright and warm and cheerful, crowded and bustling with puppy-eared hanyou; I dreamed of the ominous dark on the castle’s top floors, and a face half shadowed by a deep hood, the lips in a horrible smile stained and dripping with dark blood.

I woke with a start in the dark hours before dawn, all my senses on high alert. Someone was in the room with me.

Through pure instinct, I concealed my aura. Observation always preceded battle; I needed to know who was there. The room was dark at pitch, but eventually my eyes adjusted enough to make out a woman’s slender figure with her back to me, holding up my brass mirror to gaze at her reflection. She appeared to be wearing a white kimono jacket and dark hakama – for all the world like a miko’s robes.

As I watched, she set down the mirror and picked up a bundle – the white and red kimono Sesshoumaru had given me. She cast it around her shoulders, and it flared around her like dappled moonlight.

Almost as soon as she had put it on, however, she swung it off again, and I heard a great rip as she rent it between her hands. I suppressed a shudder – such strength! To tear a thick silk garment as though it were cobwebs – the being may have looked like a miko, but she was not human.

There were two great ripping sounds, each one sounding as though she’d torn the garment in half. I couldn’t make out what she did with them; it was so dark! But then she turned to me, and I must admit that I closed my eyes, hoping that she would leave me be if it seemed I slept. I was frightened, reader – for the first time in a long time, I was truly frightened. There was something eerie, unearthly, _wrong_ about her that I couldn’t name. It was terrifying.

I felt a flutter about my face, and the destroyed rags of silk tumbled down over me. As the weight of the kimono settled onto my chest, I opened my eyes to find her kneeling over me.

In the darkness, I could see little of her face, but what I could make out was a faint oval of pure white, with two big dark eyes like holes in her face; she may have been beautiful, if she hadn’t looked so corpse-like. She was twisting the long ribbon of silk between her delicate hands, staring ahead unseeingly. And then her hands came down on either side of my neck, the garrote cutting into me with the force of a falling tree.

I let out a choked cry, struggling with all my strength, but her hands were immovably, inhumanly strong. I fought, I struck at her, I yanked fruitlessly at the silk raga against my throat, but to no avail – it was light fighting with a stone statue. At last, as my vision was going white, I loosed some part of my aura and fired my holy power at her with all my failing strength. 

I don’t think I managed to injure her; she was not youkai, I could tell, and my holy power should not have been able to harm another miko. But still, she staggered back from me and stood, the silk strip hanging harmlessly from one slender hand.

Without a word, she turned and walked slowly out of the room. I did not pursue her, but watched with wide eyes, coughing and choking and rubbing my sore neck. She walked with unhurried grace, as though she had not just attempted to murder me in my bed – even sliding the shoji door closed behind her after her departure.

I slept no more that night, but alternately attempted to meditate and rode out vivid flashes of remembered horror at the face of my dead-eyed visitor.  

**

At breakfast the following morning, I could not conceal the ugly purple line across my neck. Sesshoumaru flew to my side, a ferocious scowl on his face.

“How.” The word was ground out as though he were chewing on glass. I told him of my visitor.  

He closed his eyes as I finished talking, and drew me to him in a one-armed embrace. I felt a shudder go through his big frame, whether in horror or something else I could not tell. “Forgive me,” he murmured. “I have failed you.”

“You have not failed me; I am perfectly fine. She simply left, like nothing had happened.” I shivered, and did not draw back as he clutched me tighter. “Who was she?”

“It was a dream, a hallucination,” he assured me, stroking my hair.

“But the torn kimono, and—” He pressed a kiss to my forehead, and drew back to look me in the eyes. 

“This creature woke you from a deep slumber, is that correct? And it was too dark for you to make out her features?” I nodded. “There you have it, then; half-asleep as you were, you imagined this horrible dead-eyed creature, when in fact it must have been Kaede, or one of the young serving-girls.”

I frowned. It had been dim and I wasn’t certain of what I’d seen – but my memories were so vivid! Then again, so were my memories of my dreams. “She was wearing a miko’s robes, I think,” I mused reluctantly. 

He nodded seriously. “Kaede, then. Which would explain why there was no demonic aura to alert you to her presence.”

I shuddered, thinking back on the dream I’d been having when I woke: the vision of the bloody mouth of the priestess. Perhaps he was right – but there was a lingering unease that clouded my happiness, its dark shadows lengthening across the future I saw before me.


	11. Chapter 11

The end of summer was unseasonably cool, and by the time our wedding was approaching, the nights brought frost. I woke the morning before my wedding day to the autumn’s first snow.

I found Sesshoumaru waiting for me in the dojo when I went to clear my head with my morning exercise. Before I could speak, he drew me into his arms. I closed my eyes, desperately wishing to find comfort and reassurance there – but I found no relief to the persistent dread that had settled in my stomach over the preceding months.

“Come,” he said softly. “You should meet the one who will marry us.”

He held out one arm to me, and I put an arm around his strong shoulders to facilitate his lifting me into his arms. Again I felt that desperate joy, that sense of home, all of the feelings that made me wish never to leave his side – and then together we took off into the sky. He bounded from treetop to treetop across the great western forest, and the world rushed past me in a dizzying wash.

He touched down in a clearing and set me on my feet. I looked around us; there was a bit of snow on the ground here, though less than there had been at the castle. It was a roughly circular clearing, with an enormous magnolia tree in its center. There was no one else around us.

“Who—” I started, but stopped myself abruptly as Sesshoumaru flared his aura around us. My own roared up in answer, and a third rose to meet us. I realized with a shock that it was the tree.

“Bokusenou,” Sesshoumaru greeted softly.

A pair of watery yellow eyes opened from a knot in the tree’s trunk, and I realized that there was a wizened old face staring at me. It was deeply lined, crusted with bark, and had a long nose that had grown down over its mouth. It looked ancient, and tired.

“Sesshoumaru-sama,” the tree answered, its voice creaky. “More than a century has passed since our paths have crossed. What brings you to my grove?” 

“My betrothed,” he answered, urging me forward with a hand at the small of my back. With no little trepidation, I approached.

“Bokusenou-sama,” I murmured, unsure what kind of respect was due to a tree.

The tree squinted at me for a long moment, before returning to meet Sesshoumaru’s eyes.

“A human, Sesshoumaru-sama?” it asked, eyes narrowing at him speculatively. “Following in your father’s footsteps after all?”

Sesshoumaru scowled ferociously. “I am  _nothing_  like my father,” he spat. “My father was a fool, whose weakness cost him his life.” 

I stared at him, my fascination overwhelming my hurt at his insult to my humanity. “Your father died because of a human?” I asked softly.

“Not now, miko” he growled.

“Indeed,” the tree interjected smoothly, ignoring Sesshoumaru’s discomfiture. “The great Inu no Taisho fell in love with a human princess, and died on the night their hanyou was born – protecting her from a human prince who was to have married her, but was enraged to find her defiled by a demon.”  

“Inuyasha,” I whispered, understanding now some of the tension between the two brothers.

“Had my sire not been near death already from his battle with the dragon lord Ryuukotsusei, no  _human_ could ever have injured him.”

That stung me. “Need I remind you,  _my lord_ , that I am also human?” I hissed. Out of the corner of my eye, I noted the tree’s eyes crinkle with amusement.

A scowl gathered on his brow like a thunderstorm, the crescent moon crinkling. “You are not a weakness,” he growled. 

“By which you merely mean that you are not weak,” I shot back. “I am still human.”

The tree let out a creaking laugh. “Do you seek my approval for your mate, Sesshoumaru-sama?” it asked. “Because I believe you have it. Approach me, miko-sama.” 

I blinked, my anger forgotten, and approached. The tree looked me over carefully, then gave me an investigative buffet of its aura. I allowed mine to rise in answer – not challenging, but offering answers to his curiosity.

“There is something more to you, miko-sama,” the tree mused. “You are a powerful miko; more powerful than any I have encountered in many a year. But there is something else about you that I do not understand – a presence I have not felt in centuries.” It closed its eyes. After a long moment, it let out a low sigh, like a breeze through leafy boughs. “You have chosen well, Sesshoumaru-sama. You wish me to perform the mating ceremony?”

“The marriage,” Sesshoumaru corrected. My heart seized in my chest at his words; I well knew the situation, but I still longed for more.

The tree’s eyebrows raised. “I am not in the habit of performing human marriages, Sesshoumaru-sama. Would you not seek out a priest? I know little of human customs, even after two thousand years in this forest.” There was a certain disgust in his voice. “Your marriage will be recognized by no one; why take the trouble?”

“You forget yourself, tree,” Sesshoumaru said, his voice low and menacing. Bokusenou sighed.  

“My apologies, Sesshoumaru-sama,” the tree said, after a moment. “You are correct. As a denizen of the West, and as a friend of your father’s, I consent to perform this ceremony.” The tree met my eyes. “And you, miko-sama – I will pray that you do not have need of the strength I have seen inside you.” I bowed my head in thanks.

Sesshoumaru and I walked a ways into the forest, each deep in their own silent thoughts. I had much to consider.

Sesshoumaru stopped in front of me so abruptly that I nearly slammed into his back. After a moment of my waiting in silent anxiety beside him, he turned to face me.

“Kagome,” he sighed, his eyes heavy with something like wistfulness. He slid a hand into my hair, the palm cupping my cheek. I closed my eyes, turning my face into his touch. His lips brushed my forehead, and I felt myself drawn into a tender embrace. I melted into his arms, desperate for precisely the reassurance and affection he was offering me.

“Kagome, my ally, my love,” he began again, his voice rumbling in his chest under my cheek. “I wish I could share my whole self, my whole life with you, but there are secrets I cannot allow even you to discover.” 

“I do not understand, my lord,” I murmured, burying my face deeper into his haori. He stroked my hair with a long-fingered hand.

“There is a secret burden that I have guarded jealously for many years; my land, my title – my life as I know it depends upon it. And now – I would gladly throw away all my wealth and power if that would only free me. But it will not; even if I endured being shamed, deposed, and shunned, it would do me no good.” I felt him shake his head. “Little ally, forgive me.”

“You speak in riddles.”

“As I must,” he responded, looking away. “But you will marry me even so?”

All my instincts screamed at me to say no. What secrets did he guard? What was this threat that might depose and shame him? What share of the burden would I be agreeing to take on my becoming his wife, and one day his mate? I knew well that it would be madness to bind myself into a situation with no knowledge of what it entailed. But oh, reader, how I loved him.

“I will.”

**

Mayumi helped me put on layer upon layer of kimono. With every new shell of heavy silk, every new jeweled hairpiece, I felt more and more distant, more absent; when at last the large white headdress was placed on my head, Mayumi showed me my reflection and I could not find myself in it at all.

The wedding party was larger than I’d anticipated – Mayumi, Katsura, Rin, and Jaken followed close behind me and Sesshoumaru, with two somber lines of soldiers and house maids, recalled specifically for the wedding preparations, trailing behind us. The silence was heavy; it felt more like a funeral than a wedding. We trudged through the snow, since Sesshoumaru thought there was more dignity in walking than in flying. Halfway through the walk through the forest, Katsura picked up Rin, who fell asleep in her arms almost immediately.

The whole experience felt unreal, and a little absurd. Walking through the woods behind a demon lord, dressed in silks so fine I could barely comprehend their worth, trailed by a pack of demons, most of them strangers – all to be joined in a ceremony that meant nothing to anyone but me. I caught myself with tears in my eyes more than once, and had to tell myself sternly not to be ungrateful. I was marrying the man I loved best in the world; shouldn’t that be enough for anyone?

The sun was high when we reached Bokusenou’s clearing, and the snow around us sparkled like diamonds.

The tree greeted the assembly courteously, as though nothing were wrong. Sesshoumaru and I stood next to each other in grave silence as the tree invoked the kami. A tear slid down my cheek, warm then immediately cold in the frigid air; why was I crying?

Before the tree could finalize our union, there was a crash in the trees – a silver and red blur fell from the sky like a meteor. I gaped, my heart pounding.

“Inuyasha,” Sesshoumaru ground out, shoving me roughly behind him and reaching for his sword. The soldiers in the party surrounded Inuyasha before he could even stand.

“Cut the crap, asshole; I’m not going to let you go through with this.” Inuyasha’s voice was as brash as I remembered, but there was a pugnacious determination in his eyes that made me worry.

“You cannot stop me,” Sesshoumaru answered, teeth bared and the promise of violence in his voice.

“Wanna bet?” Inuyasha shifted into a defensive crouch. “Bring it, fucker.” A bristling ring of spears surrounded him, but he seemed undeterred.

“Enough!” The voice was tiny but bore an unmistakable authority. Inuyasha straightened reluctantly, and the soldiers all stood at attention – even Sesshoumaru removed his hand from the hilt of his sword. Myouga hopped off of Inuyasha’s shoulder and onto Bokusenou. The two old demons regarded the assembly with serious eyes.

“You have no grounds for interrupting us,” Sesshoumaru informed the flea, his face impassive.

“Wrong,” Inuyasha interrupted. “I am not going to stand by and watch that woman get sucked into your bullshit.”

“Inuyasha-sama, if you will allow me,” Myouga interjected, exasperated. “Kagome-sama, do you understand that this is not a demon mating ceremony?”

Sesshoumaru’s eyes flicked over to me with an expression I had never seen in them before. He looked … panicked. I drew a deep breath.

“I do.”

“Do you understand the difference between human marriage and demon mating?”

“Yes.”

“Then you know that by marrying Sesshoumaru-sama, you are binding yourself to a life in which you will age and die at a normal human rate while Sesshoumaru-sama remains young?”

All of my most painful thoughts being rehearsed in front of everyone! I tried to keep my voice from trembling, with limited success. “Yes, I know.”

“And you are further aware that Sesshoumaru-sama can never—”

“Silence!” Sesshoumaru’s roar startled all of us; a number of bird scattered from the nearby trees, squawking their displeasure. An eerie silence fell on the clearing.

“If you do not wish for me to tell her, Sesshoumaru-sama, then you must.” Myouga was the one to break the silence at last, his tiny voice was hard as stone. I felt as though I were trapped in amber; I couldn’t move, could barely breathe.

Sesshoumaru turned to me. I looked up at him, desperate for reassurance – desperate to be told that he loved me, that we would be married, that we would be mated, that I would live my life beside him. 

“Kagome,” he said gravely. “I cannot mate you. Not now; not ever.” 

Even though I suspected deep in my soul that the blow was coming, it still fell upon me like a hammer. A sharp agony constricted both my body and my mind, making it hard to draw breath. “I understand,” I managed, looking away. “I would not wish to suffer an eternity of my company either.” 

“No!” He snarled, the viciousness of the word making me recoil from him. He grabbed me by both shoulders, hard enough to bruise, and turned me forcibly to face him. “Kagome, look at me –  _look_  at me.” His eyes were dark and troubled, but sincere and full of import. “I want more than anything in this world to spend the rest of my life with you – I want you to live for thousands of years by my side; I want never to wake without you.”

My heart felt like it would burst at his words – like water on parched earth, they were everything I wanted! – but I shook my head adamantly. I wanted them so desperately that I  _must_  distrust them. Words were not, could never be enough.

“Now that I have found you,” he continued, his voice low and confessional, “I do not know how I can lose you, and endure a near-endless lifetime of loneliness after you’re gone. I would give my kingdom – I would give  _anything_  to change it. But I cannot, my Kagome, heart of my heart. I cannot mate you.”  

“Why?” I whispered, my voice tremulous.

For a moment he looked at me without speaking. At last he turned, eyes sweeping the assembled group, landing last on Myouga where he clung to Bokusenou’s bark.

“Very well,” he snarled with a fury so sudden it made me flinch. “If you are determined to ruin me and topple the West, come along.”

He scooped me up in his arms and launched himself into the air. Looking over his shoulder, I saw Inuyasha close behind us, with Katsura carrying Rin behind him, then Mayumi – dragging Jaken by the scruff of the neck – all followed by the pack of other demons bounding from treetop to treetop. We were back at the castle in moments.

Bypassing the courtyard and the main doors, Sesshoumaru leapt effortlessly to the top floor and set me on my feet on the balcony. Throwing the door open with enough force to shatter its wooden frame, he stalked through the forbidden ninth floor. At last he came to an inner door, and lay a hand against it. There was a shimmer of power, and a barrier fell. All of a sudden I felt Kaede’s aura from within. Beside me, I could see Inuyasha scenting the air; the barrier must have contained her scent as well. 

Sesshoumaru opened the door and entered without looking back. We followed.  

“Sesshoumaru-sama,” Kaede murmured in greeting. She stood near a squat stove, and was stirring a pot of soup that sat atop it. “She’s in a mood today, spent all morning pacing like a tiger. I recommend that the lot of you keep your distance.”

Sesshoumaru ignored her words and strode to a locked door, its solid wood in stark contrast to the castle’s usual silk and paper screens. The room it led to appeared to have wooden walls, as well; it was like a dungeon. Sesshoumaru drew a key from his sleeve and fit it into the iron lock.

“Here we are, then – gather around, everyone; you should all have a good view.” He opened the door and ushered us all into the wooden room.

It was a larger room than I’d expected – it looked open and empty, despite the bed in one corner and a few desks and tables clustered around the walls.  There were no windows, and it was dim despite a number of lamps; I realized suddenly that there were holy barriers surrounding all the lamps, so that no one could touch them. That dimmed their light just enough to make the room feel gloomy. The walls bore deep scars, as though someone had been gouging at them with claws.

“Kikyou-nee-san, how you are feeling today?” Kaede called, approaching a figure who stood silently in a corner, facing the wall. The figure was tall and slender, with long, glossy black hair, and wearing miko robes. I gasped and recoiled. The creature who tried to strangle me in my sleep!

Sesshoumaru faced the assembled demons. “Allow me to introduce _my mate,”_ he snarled, his final words spat with caustic finality. A stunned silence greeted his words.

The figure turned to face us. She was beautiful – her face a flawless oval, pale as ivory, with large dark eyes and a small, perfectly-formed mouth. Her eyes, however, were flat and dull, and her face utterly devoid of emotion – she looked lifeless, like a doll … or a corpse. I shuddered, remembering her unnatural strength.

While the crowd of onlookers stared in silence, trying to comprehend the news they’d been given, the creature suddenly launched herself across the room, attaching herself to Sesshoumaru’s neck with her long, slender fingers. Despite his tremendous strength, he grappled with her, unable to fully disengage her; her fingers were digging into the flesh of his neck, deep enough that I was worried for his safety. One of the soldiers threw a spear at her, and it shattered when it touched her as though she were made of stone. Throughout her attack, her face remained perfectly emotionless, as though she had no part in what she was doing.

At last, he succeeded in throwing her off, and Kaede set up a small barrier around her. After trying twice to step through the barrier, she simply stood, appearing to accept her new situation with neither fury nor disappointment. I shuddered with the realization that she was merely waiting for another opportunity.

“Now you understand,” Sesshoumaru said. “The woman you see there succeeded in bespelling me, placing a mating mark upon me that cannot be undone. I can take no other mate. The Lord of the West was conquered by a human miko – who then lost her faculties and turned into the soulless monster you see before you.”

“Fuck,” Inuyasha breathed, his eyes rapt on the figure in the holy barrier. “Kikyou…”

Sesshoumaru stood glaring around the room, his implacable calm not fully hiding his fury. The soldiers and maids noticed it – one by one they began backing out of the room, unwilling to meet his glare. At last, only Mayumi, Katsura, Jaken, and Inuyasha remained, with Myouga clinging to Inuyasha’s sleeve.

“My lord,” Kaede called from her position by the small barrier. Her face was pale, and there was sweat standing out on her brow. “I cannot hold her much longer. She’s fighting me today.”

“We will leave you,” Sesshoumaru answered, ushering us out of the room and closing it behind him once Kaede had left as well. “Kaede, you are no longer required to keep her scent and aura hidden. Merely confine her.”

She bowed. “As I always have, my lord, so will I do.”

**

I ignored the pitying looks I got from Mayumi, Katsura, and Inuyasha, and the grave concern in Sesshoumaru’s eyes; without speaking, I returned to my room. One by one, I removed my fine kimonos and jeweled hair-pieces, laying them carefully out across my bed. I re-dressed myself in my simplest cotton kimono.

Sitting on the floor, I settled myself into meditation. I would not allow myself to succumb to agony and despair. I would not give myself over to anger. My spiritual power swelled into the void where my thoughts had been. I allowed the sea to wash over me, to overwhelm me.

I was determined to stay in my meditative state until the pain in my soul was eased. When at last I opened my eyes, it was the middle of the night.

I stood, and immediately stumbled; my knees were weak and wobbly. I caught myself on the doorpost and sighed, deciding to get a glass of water from the kitchen. I slid the door open and nearly tripped over Sesshoumaru.

He had been sitting on the floor with his back against my door, but he rose when he saw me.

“Kagome—” he started, and the sound of his voice sent a shooting pain through my chest. I whimpered, and lay a hand on the wall to steady myself as the world swam around me. He caught me up in his arms. “What can I do?” he asked, his voice low and helpless.

“Water,” I gasped, closing my eyes again. Without another word, he carried me to the kitchen and set me gently down on a low chair.

He returned to my side a moment later with a cup of cool water in one hand and a cup of hot sake in the other. As I drank the first, he fetched me a bowl of rice and poured some stew over it.

“Eat,” he said softly, setting it down in front of me.

“I’m not hungry.”

“You will eat,” he said, a small frown creasing his brow. “You have been in your room for four days; you require food.”

“Four—?” I gasped, disbelieving. He nodded seriously. “And have you been sitting at my door the whole time?” He nodded again, looking away.

I ate a few bites of the stew, interspersed with sips of water and sake. I could feel my strength returning to me, though with it came the return of the pain in my chest.

Sesshoumaru knelt before me on the kitchen floor, his eyes not leaving my face, until I had finished eating.

“Kagome,” he murmured. “Do you wish to hear the story in full?”

There was nothing I wanted less. “Yes,” I whispered. I needed to know.

Sesshoumaru rose, and seated himself across the low table from me. For a moment he stared off into the distance.  

“There is nothing for it,” he began at last. “It is a long tale, little ally, but you deserve to know.

“The miko you saw locked away there was once among the most powerful of her kind, known far and wide for the goodness and purity of her heart. But a spider hanyou stung her heart, or so Kaede claims, and infected her with his own desire for power. She became consumed with the need to possess a youkai, body and soul – and no mere beast, but she determined to set her eyes on the strongest daiyoukai in the land. She chose me. She would not be satisfied until we were mated, until our essences mingled and she possessed my youki to blend with her own reiki. For years, it seemed, she plotted – with a witch in the mountains, with the spider hanyou who accustomed her soul to the touch of youki. She knew that I was proud, and that I would spurn and kill her. So she planned.

“The spell she and her conspirators drew up was a masterful one. She would be bound to me until either her death or mine, with a spell that echoed the mating mark – utterly unbreakable. But in addition, she knew that I would kill her outright when I discovered her plan, so she could not allow herself to die.”

“Not die?” I gasped, shocked enough to interrupt. “But the very foundations of the world, the rock upon which all spirituality is built, is the circle of life. The wheel turns slowly for some, through their youki or reiki, but it must turn! Was she not a priestess?”

He nodded gravely. “She found a way to circumvent the laws of nature. She and the witch transferred her soul from her mortal body into a clay copy, unbreakable by time and powered by the souls of others.” I shuddered involuntarily. Human souls, denied their rest by a mortal’s thirst for power!

“She and the witch bound the body to pull souls from the recent dead as surely as a magnet pulls at iron. And like a magnet with iron, the will of her body organized these souls into the shape she desired, and filled them with its own purpose. She did not set that she could  _never_  die, no, that was impossible even for them – but she did determine that she could never be killed. She knew my reputation, knew that I would kill her if she succeeded in tricking me. But in her clay body, any act of malice would be rejected by the souls that powered it.”

I turned my face away, shivering in horror. “So,” I said softly, my eyes on my hands. “She made herself susceptible only to illness or accident.” 

“Only accident, in the end,” he said wearily. “Her clay body does not appear to house illness; even when the shiro was stricken by plague, she alone remained hale and healthy while my faithful retainers died.” For a long moment we sat in silence, lost in our own separate horror.

“That is not the whole,” he sighed after a moment’s silence. “She found me; she cast the spell upon me – in the form of an arrow to my neck while I was occupied with another battle. Through the bespelled reiki imbued in her arrow, we were bound as mates; she absorbed some measure of my youki, growing stronger than any miko ever had before. I refused her reiki, but I could not refuse the bond. I belonged to her as surely as if I had claimed her myself; I can take no other mate until she dies.” I could feel his keen eyes on me, but did not look up to meet them. He sighed again. “I did not know how to proceed. The bloody history of my life offered me no viable guide. I could not kill her nor have her killed; no act of violence would ever rid me of her. I could not ignore her, for the mere fact of her existence exposed my weakness to the demon lords who had not yet ceased to see me as an imperfect shadow of my father. I faced ridicule and rebellion if I allowed her to live.

“I hoped at first to reason with her, to come to an agreement. But I soon discovered the flaw in her plan: she had vastly overestimated the resilience of her soul in the face of unprecedented hardship. Within days of accomplishing the bond that tied her to me so inexorably, so permanently, she herself was gone. Her soul fractured, crumbled, and disintegrated, overwhelmed by my youki and the myriad other souls that swarmed her golem’s body like worker bees. The madness that overtook her was more terrifying even than her cunning when her mind was her own; foreign souls with their capacity for independent thought stripped away, all at war with each other and the binding will that dragged them together, confined within and given access to a virtually immortal body with phenomenal capabilities for purification, amplified by the youki that now swirled within it as well – it was a disaster for demon-kind. She would have wiped out the demon population in the West if she had been allowed to roam free.

“I determined that my only course of action to protect my lands and my people was to keep her here. Her sister was young, at that point, but a powerful miko in her own right; I gave her leave to stay here and assure herself that Kikyou was well-treated, in exchange for looking after her sister and maintaining her behind a scent-proof barrier at all times, so that she never be discovered. Kaede has managed well at a difficult task for over fifty years, but of late her age has been a liability; she sleeps more than she used to, and sometimes turns to sake to assuage her sorrows. As you know, Kikyou has slipped her bonds more than once.”

I shuddered, thinking of the wound in Inuyasha’s shoulder. I turned, the question burning in my throat. Sesshoumaru was looking at me with those unreadable golden eyes.

“Inuyasha loved her, long ago,” he said softly. “Before the spider, before the spells, before her clay body and her lust for power. He would have become fully human to live out the rest of his life beside her if he had known how. Even after she renounced him and claimed me, even after there was nothing left of her inside her body, he loved who she used to be so dearly that he’d do nearly anything even for the shell that remains.” He closed his eyes and turned his face away. “I should rend his flesh from his bones for the harm he has done me and mine, but I cannot hate him.” 

After a long moment of silence, I sighed and stood. “I am tired,” I said softly.

“Kagome,” he whispered, eyes full of affection and sadness. “We can still be married – we can still spend your lifetime together. We cannot have eternity together, but – will you throw away what time we have?”  He caught my hand between his own and pressed it to his lips.

I have never felt such an agony of temptation. I loved him so dearly – and I could have him, for the rest of my mortal life. For a long moment I wavered. But how could I make a rational decision with him looking at me so piteously, and offering me words of love?

“I am tired,” I whispered again, and fled.

Safely back in my room, I considered my courses of action. I could stay here and marry him, with the specter of his mate living in the castle above us. If we were unmated, any children I bore to him would be bastards; I would never be seen as his lady, but merely be a shameful secret. Perhaps when I got old and ugly, he would lock me away as well.

I shook my head. That was unfair. Wasn’t it? In any case, even if he treated me well until my dying day, could I live that way? Living in fear of Kikyou slipping her bonds; finding someone else to mind her when Kaede inevitably passed. I shuddered at the thought of living with a caged tiger.

 _Or_ , the voice in my heart reminded me _, I could leave_.

I could leave the House of the Moon forever, leaving behind Rin, leaving behind the only place I had ever been treated with fondness and respect. I could leave Sesshoumaru.

 _Sesshoumaru._ When I thought of him, a sudden anger rose in my throat, hot as bile, and drowned out my sorrow. Sesshoumaru had deceived me at every turn; he had misled me, given me false hope that we might someday be mated. He had made my doubt my own senses and memory when Kikyou tried to kill me. Kikyou was a burden on his soul far greater than a mere inconvenient truth to hide from other demons; he had sacrificed his very integrity for her. He had used my innocence, not caring who was hurt as he sought his heart’s desire. Could I trust him again? I loved him – I loved him madly, with every fiber of my being and every beat of my heart. But could I stay with him?

In the end, it was my confusion that made my mind up for me. Every time I was around him, I lost the ability to think properly – and look where my lapsed in judgement had left me! I could not allow myself to be talked into bad decisions merely because the man I loved wished them of me. I could not allow my sense of self to be eroded. I would not sacrifice my dignity for love.

I snatched up my bow and quiver of arrows, hid my scent and aura, and climbed out my window, scrambling cautiously down the side of the castle. The moon was bright, and the snow reflected its light, so I had no trouble finding purchase. Moving from balcony to balcony and ledge to ledge, at last I reached the safety of the courtyard. Without allowing myself a backward glance, for fear it would weaken my resolve, I slipped silently out the castle gate and into the woods beyond, leaving my heart behind me in the House of the Moon. 


	12. Chapter 12

I ran through the night, my whole being focused on the experience of running. The crunch and slide of the few inches of snow under my feet; the burn of the frigid air in my lungs; the bounce of my quiver against my back; the familiar ache in my legs that drowned out the strange new ache in my heart. 

I stopped for rest only when it began to grow light. Glancing behind me, I saw that my footprints were clear in the snow; if he were to search for me, he would have no difficulty tracking me. The snow had gotten deeper; this part of the country seemed colder, too. I couldn’t trust that the snow would melt and hide my tracks I remembered the sound of rushing water not far away, and changed my course abruptly. 

The little stream was frozen over and piled with snow at the edges, but the center of it still rushed with at least a foot of fast-moving, clear water. With no small amount of distaste and trepidation, I stripped off my wooden sandals and high, heavy socks, pulled my cotton kimono up to my knees and belted it, and stepped into the stream. 

I nearly screamed in agony when the water closed over my ankles; daggers of fire were boring into my skin. I stood paralyzed for a long moment, forcing myself to breathe, while my feet adjusted to the icy cold. Before long, I was able to move again. 

I walked downstream with as much haste as I could manage without endangering myself; I lost feeling in my feet almost at once, and more than once I slipped on something underwater and nearly fell. I could not risk a fall, though; if I drenched myself in this water I would certainly be at risk of hypothermia. 

When the sun was high, I found what I had sought – a bridge. The road appeared well-traveled; the snow was packed down and often worn away completely, and it bore the tracks of horses, wagons, and many heavy feet. It was as safe a concealment as anything I could have hoped for. I hauled myself out of the water, immediately falling into a snow bank; my feet would not support me. Looking down, I found them dark purple and blistered. 

I made my way to the road and sat on the edge of the bridge to take stock. The snow behind me was stained with red; I had dozens of cuts and scrapes where I had stepped on sharp rocks without being able to feel the injuries. My toes were badly frostbitten, and I knew I would lose them if I ignored them. I sighed. I was still reeling with hunger after my four-day fast and bone-weary from a night of running, but there was nothing for it. I drew my power into my hands, and exerted my will against the damage done to my feet. 

Healing is usually a matter of coaxing and guiding the energy of the being you're healing – and even that is exhausting, requiring masterful control and tremendous energy. But for that selfsame reason, healing another is much easier than healing oneself. As I sat there, my spiritual energy was being depleted on two fronts: on the one hand, guiding and directing the healing, and actually repairing the damaged tissue on the other. When at last my feet were warm and whole again, I was dizzy and faint with exhaustion. With effort, I used my bow to scrape the bloody snow into the stream and cover the tracks that led up to the road. I replaced my socks and sandals, re-tied my kimono, and, noting that I was damp and chilled from the fall into the snowbank, told myself that the best way to warm up was to run. I dragged myself to my feet and ran. 

I realized after some time that I was stumbling, my gait strained and uneven, and slowed to a walk to avoid injuring myself. My head was pounding so hard that I was seeing stars, and my body felt heavy and unwieldy. I spent the whole day walking through low, barren plains, wild and alien-looking all draped in a white as they were. I passed several small groups of travelers – a woodcutter, his back piled with sticks, a group of merchants with their armed guards, peasants and laborers, all wearing furs to protect them from the weather – but spoke to no one. As I walked, wherever I could see a stick, a bit of dead grass sheltered from the snow by a tree, anything dry, I picked it up. That night, I made a small fire by the roadside and huddled over it, telling myself that meditation interrupted by feeding the fire was as good as sleep. 

The next morning was brisk and bright, and I rose stiffly and continued my path through the empty plains. Finally I crested a hill, and saw something that gave me hope – ahead, the road cut through the corner of a mighty forest. The wooded part of the road couldn't have been more than a mile or two long, and there appeared to be farmland on the other side, but perhaps at last I could find something to hunt! I felt so physically unwell that I couldn't really be hungry, but I knew I needed to eat, having had nothing more than a few bites of stew in more than five days. More wood would mean a proper fire, too. I set off.  

As midday arrived and I was nearing the edge of the forest, a group of some ten men emerged from the shadow of the wood. I was immediately wary; something about them put me on my guard in a way that none of the other passers-by had. There was a sharpness to their gaze, a suspicion, a cagey distrustfulness that made me doubt that their intentions were innocent. Nonetheless, I had little choice; the road was open, and they had seen me. I could not avoid them. I walked on as though I had nothing to fear from them. 

"Hey, sweetheart!" one of them called as I approached. "What's a pretty little thing like you doing alone on the road?" I affected not to have heard, and kept my eyes resolutely forward. 

The one who'd spoken – a big man, with a few days' stubble on his chin and a nose that had been broken more than once – stepped into my path. I sidestepped him, keeping my head down. He caught me by the arm and spun me to face him.

"You're a rude one, ignoring me like that; didn't anyone ever tell you to give your betters your full attention when they speak?" he taunted, a few cracked teeth showing through his mirthless grin. 

Even through the fog of exhaustion and grief, my temper rose at the jibe. "Then it's well that I have no betters here," I snapped, yanking my arm out of his grip. He was strong, but even weakened as I was, he was no match for me. 

His friends stepped up behind him. I had – I had  _forgotten_  that he was part of a group? I gaped at them as though they'd risen from the snow like ghosts. How could I have been so foolish? 

I reached for my quiver, but before I could nock an arrow, one of them grabbed my arms while another struck me in the stomach. The air whooshed from my lungs, leaving fire in its wake. I smashed the back of my head into the chin of the man who held me, and when he doubled over in pain, I flipped one of them onto the road, dashing him hard enough against the packed earth that he lay stunned. One down … but there were so many more of them. 

"She's a wildcat, boys, grab her!" cried a scrawny one with protruding teeth, who was dancing around the edge of the fight, keeping well out of my reach. "Let's see how much money she's got on her, and then we can have a little fun before our next job." 

Eventually four of them held me down, and pawing hands found the little bag of coins I had secreted away – I had never collected my full salary from Jaken, so I had almost nothing. A grumble of outrage travelled through the group; I was not worth the trouble. Nonetheless, it was tossed to the scrawny one, who tucked it into his shirt for safekeeping. One of them struck me hard enough cross the face that I heard a sickening crunch and felt an unnatural shift – my jaw was broken. The pain was blinding; I sagged in their arms, and the world went black. 

I couldn't have been unconscious for more than a few moments – when I came to I was still being held up by the same four men. Through the darkness, I heard one of them saying, “This bow must be worth something, though.” I fought against the fog of pain; I must not let them have my bow!  

With a burst of desperate energy, I threw the men off me and whirled into a defensive crouch, wielding my bow as a staff. They had been badly surprised, since I had surely seemed helpless mere moments before, but they soon recollected themselves enough to throw themselves at me, growling like animals. One by one I beat them off, save the scrawny one who ran, yelping about demons, as soon as he saw that I still had fight in me. He had taken my quiver as well; they must have gotten that from me when I was unconscious.

The big one was the last one standing, and I could taste victory with all the wildness in my heart as I came at him. When I went to flip him over my bow, though, he was in the middle of striking at me – and somehow, his arm became entangled between the bowstring and the wood. It was too late for me to change the course of my blow; he went up in the air, and with a sickening crunch, landed hard on the ground, my broken bow half under him. 

I stared at the shattered remnants of my bow until a groan from one of the men brought me back to myself. Without waiting for them to collect themselves, I turned and fled down the road into the forest. 

My heart was pounding in my throat. I was still sick with pain, but my powers were already so depleted from healing my feet that I wasn't sure I could heal my jaw. I was physically and spiritually drained, as well as starved and nigh frozen – what I needed was rest, and food, and no more exertion. I’d do myself no good if I couldn’t eat, though, so the jaw had to be fixed. When I felt I had put enough distance between us that at least I would hear them if they tried to follow me, I sat on the roadside and began to heal myself. 

It was agonizing. I was so weak that my powers could barely correct any of the damage – eventually I stopped using my strength to try to quell the pain, and simply suffered as I focused all my will on shifting the shards of bone and re-knitting them together. When at last I was done, perhaps an hour later, I was sweating and shaking. Knowing that I was as yet unable to stand, I sat for a moment and took stock. 

No bow. I couldn't hunt; I couldn't defend myself. Should I try to make a staff out of a tree branch? With no knife to cut a fresh branch, I'd be limited to the weak, dead wood of the forest floor, and I wouldn't even be able to trim it to get it straight. My flint had been in my money bag; I could not make a fire. 

At last I hauled myself to my feet and set off down the road again. I was shuddering convulsively, uncontrollably, both from the adrenaline withdrawal after the fight and from sheer cold and weakness. Twice I bit my tongue hard enough to fill my mouth with the coppery taste of blood; the second time it happened, I sank to my knees and retched red into the snow by the roadside. I thought grimly that I should be grateful I hadn't eaten enough to vomit properly. 

When I tried to stand again, my knees buckled under me, and my vision swam. The afternoon sun was deepening into golden orange, sending long shadows across the road like grasping fingers; it was getting colder. I did not think I would survive a night outside. 

Grasping a tree, I hauled myself upright and stood clinging to it until I felt that I could take a step. Step, step. One after another. One more. I focused all of my energy on the next step. 

I came to the edge of the forest just as the last light was fading from the sky. There was something on the road ahead. I wasn't sure, and couldn't trust my fading vision, but it looked like a cluster of houses. It was not near – perhaps an hour's walk had I been healthy. 

With trembling steps like a baby's, moving from tree to fencepost when I could, and falling often, I made my way on. Perhaps midway there I fell hard onto my hands and knees, and discovered that I could not stand – my legs simply would not support me. I couldn't help it – I wept in frustration and rage and exhaustion and grief, on my hands and knees in the middle of an empty road. 

At last I collected myself, and tried again to stand. Again I failed. Closing my eyes and taking a slow breath, I resigned myself to crawling. I had to stop to rest often. I focused on the pain of my knees, bruised by the packed earth; I focused on the pain in my palms, punctured and slit by the stones that littered the road. Pain meant that I was still alive. I did not allow myself to think of Sesshoumaru; to tell the truth, I was afraid that if I did, I would simply let myself die. 

The moon was high and bright when at last I entered the confines of what appeared to be a little town. I dragged myself up on a fence post and sat, putting my head between my knees when the world swam around me. Again, I took a few shaky steps before collapsing to my knees. There was nothing for it; I would have to crawl. 

I approached the first house and drew myself up to standing again. Knocking hesitantly on the door, I held my breath and waited. 

A child answered the door – no older than Rin, with a cocky, gap-toothed smile. 

"Mother!" she called over her shoulder. "There's someone at the door!" 

"Mei!" came a woman's exasperated voice. "How many times have I told you not to open the door to strangers?" A woman not much older than I was appeared in the doorway, her face hard. "We don't take kindly to vagabonds around these parts," she told me tartly. "You'd best take yourself off."

"Please—" I croaked, just as she slammed the door in my face, and I heard a heavy bar fall into place with a thud. The next sound was a slap from inside the door, then a child's wail. 

I could hear the woman's muffled voice still as I staggered off. "Just opening a door to a beggar-woman like that! You're lucky all you got was a clout – she could have murdered us all! Now you get back to your chores and don't let me hear another peep from you." At last I stumbled far enough away that I no longer had to hear her. 

I went from house to house on my knees, moving more slowly with every rejection. At most, the door was simply not answered; at one, I was sent sprawling with a kick. One by one, every family in the village rebuffed me in one way or another. The very last house stood a ways apart from the others; I made my way to it, despite the despair that sat in my stomach like a stone. 

I knocked on the door, not even able to pull myself upright any longer. For a long moment there was no answer – then the door slid open to reveal an enormous floating pink ball with bulging eyes and a fox tail. I gaped, convinced that I was hallucinating. 

"NO ENTRY!" moaned the apparition, with a ghostly intonation. "NO ENTRY!" 

"Please—" I began, "Please, I'm starving, and will die in this cold; please may I sleep by your fire, just for one night?"  

The apparition appeared to hesitate. "NO ENTRY!" it wailed again, its voice higher pitched now.

“Please—!” I cried. It looked frightened, and shut the door with an emphatic bang. I was alone. There was no hope. 

I let out a little sob and turned away, dragging myself on my arms back to the roadside, where I collapsed and waited for death. I closed my eyes, finally giving myself permission to think of the House of the Moon – Rin’s joyful smile and rare, sweet words, Mayumi and Katsura’s devotion to each other and hesitating fondness for me, Jaken’s officiousness and secret kindness, the soldiers’ banter, the housemaids’ gossip. Sesshoumaru. Those luminous amber eyes, crinkling with affection or mischief; the way the moon on his brow creased when he was thinking; the gentleness of those deadly claws as he stroked my hair. It was well for me that I was too exhausted to weep.

Before long, even through my closed eyes, I could see a light approaching. I waited for the light to engulf me and take me to the next world. 

"Miroku!" came a child's cry, harsh and panicked. "Miroku I'm so glad you're back – look at her, I think she's sick – it was just me and I didn't know what to do –"

"Easy, Shippou," said a genial male voice. "Take the lantern for me, will you? Just hold it there – that's it, thank you." A hand pressed against my neck, hot as an ember. "She's cold as death, but her heart's still beating. Open the door for me and start stoking the fire, all right? I'll bring her in."

I felt myself lifted in strong arms, and soon I was surrounded by warmth and light – a fire. There was a fire. I couldn't open my eyes; a strange lethargy had stolen over my limbs, making them far too heavy to move. I felt the weight of blankets being piled on top of me, and felt the cold of my body radiating out into the wool, chilling everything that touched me. After a moment, something pressed at my lips. When I tried to protest, a spoonful of hot rice gruel was pushed into my mouth. I choked and sputtered, and finally opened my eyes. Though my vision was blurry, I thought there was a handsome face smiling down at me. 

"That's it," came the same voice from before. "A few more bites, and we'll let you sleep." I managed to eat a few more spoonfuls of rice and drink half a cup of tepid tea before blackness engulfed me and I knew no more. 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, all, but there will be no update next week, 7/22. I'm going to be traveling and used my buffer this week for a family emergency. Updates will resume the week after, 7/29. Thank you for reading! -LABT

For days I slid in and out of consciousness, dark dreams of blood and betrayal blending with the strange faces that loomed over me. I heard a woman’s voice, talking about bringing down a fever (Mayumi? I could see her at the stove stirring a fresh pot of some kind of medicine; perhaps that was for me); a man, talking about spiritual regeneration (Ungai – he would beat me if he saw me as weak as this; how long could I hide from him?); a child, talking about gathering food for me (Rin – sweet Rin, more talkative now than I had ever heard her). From time to time my head would be lifted, and rice gruel poured into my mouth; I was desperately hungry, but could never eat more than a few bites before my stomach felt as though it were rising into my throat.

I dreamed of Sesshoumaru. I dreamed of him reaching for me, that rare, incandescent smile on his face, while somehow I could never reach him – I dreamed of being trapped, held down by the stone-strong arms of the priestess-golem, while he walked away from me, but all I could see was his silver hair and red and white haori disappearing into inky darkness. I wept, bereft and terrified.

Eventually, though, the dreams faded; I would wake and be able to distinguish the waking world from my nightmares, though I was still too weak to speak. There was a man with kind eyes and a warm holy aura that would wind around mine, encouraging my soul to heal. There was a red-headed little boy who would peer down at me, brow furrowed with anxiety. There was a businesslike woman who came and went, her hands strong and capable; she was often the one to lift me so that I could eat. Each time I saw them, I would fade into unconsciousness again almost immediately, but I was certain that I  _had_  seen them, that they were real. There was a reassuring continuity again. I had a thread that moored me in the real world, a thread I could follow out of my nightmares.

At last, I opened my eyes, and felt like I was surfacing from the depths of a black pool. I took a deep breath, taking stock. I was weak, but no longer felt on the verge of unconsciousness; I felt like myself for the first time since I left the House of the Moon. I looked around. 

I was lying on a thin mat on the floor of a modest house, next to a square fire-pit with a large cooking pot suspended over it. The blankets covering me were coarse, but very warm. The walls were made of bundled bamboo, well-insulated with rice straw, and there was a partition that separated me from what must have been the front door, giving me a bit of privacy and shielding me from cold drafts. I sat up, noting as I did that I was sore and stiff, as well as weak. 

With some effort, I hauled myself to my knees, and sat for a moment to allow my head to clear. I was out of breath and dizzy from such simple exertion! I rubbed my upper arms with my hands, trying to restore normal circulation. I realized as I did that I was wearing a linen yukata I had never seen before. 

As I sat getting my bearings, the little red-headed boy bounded in and peered around the partition, leaping back with a yelp of surprise when I met his eyes. I giggled at his startlement – but it was such a foreign feeling that I nearly choked on it, and pressed a hand to my throat. When was the last time I'd laughed? 

A little braver now, the boy crept back over to the edge of the screen and poked his head around it. He had an unruly puff of sunset-red hair tied back with a blue ribbon, and wide green eyes. He looked so much little the little kitsune kit that I'd seen killed as a child that for a moment I wondered if I was hallucinating again. But no – behind him, I saw a fox tail lashing back and forth, and there was a weak demonic aura buzzing against my own. He was youkai. 

"Hello," I said with a smile. "My name is Kagome. What's your name?" 

"I'm Shippou," he said with forced boldness, stepping forward and puffing his chest out. "I'm a very powerful demon, so you better not try anything sneaky." 

I couldn't help but smile at his bluster. "I wouldn't dare," I answered, trying to look impressed. "And in any case, I think I owe you and your friends my life."

His face fell a little, and he looked at me sideways from under the hair that fell over his forehead. "I'm sorry I didn't let you in," he said quietly. "Miroku told me never to let anyone in when I'm alone." 

In a flash, I understood. "The pink ball—"

He nodded glumly. "That was me." He shuffled his feet. "I'm sorry," he muttered, looking away. "You could have died because of me." 

I smiled at him with as much warmth as I could muster. "It is wise of you not to let strangers in when you're alone," I said softly. "But I'm very grateful that you let me in in the end." 

He looked up at me, scowling in consternation. "You're not mad?" 

I shook my head. "Not a bit." I held out a hand. "Friends?" 

He stared at me for a long moment, then hesitantly stepped forward and put his little hand in mine. "O-OK," he stammered, blushing. "Friends." Now that he was no longer half-hidden by the wall, I found that his legs were like fox paws, and his ears were pointed like Sesshoumaru's. His bushy red tail was twitching behind him. 

He rubbed his hand after removing it from mine. "You're way stronger than Miroku," he said, frowning. "He doesn't make my hand tingle like that." 

This Miroku had holy powers, then. "I'm sorry; did I hurt you?" 

"No, it just feels funny." He squinted at me. "You're not going to purify me, are you?" 

I laughed at that – a full laugh, the first in what felt like years. "No, little one – you’re the first friend I've had in a long time, and I have no interest in purifying you." He smiled shyly up at me. A sharp pain lanced through my chest – for just a moment his expression looked so much like one of Rin’s. Sweet Rin. She didn't do anything to deserve my abandonment. 

My companion was staring at me with a look of concern when I came back to myself. "You still look sick," he said with a scowl. "You should eat something." He scampered off and slid open another partition; the house was much bigger than I'd first thought. As he disappeared, my stomach gave a loud gurgle of protest. He was right. 

Just as he was clattering out of the room, I heard a low swish, then felt a gust of cold air swirl through the room a moment later; the front door had opened, and a faint holy aura preceded someone into the house. I had barely enough time to catch up one of the wool blankets and hold it against my chest when a tall dark-haired man in purple and black monks’ robes came in.

“Ah!” he cried, crouching opposite me next to the fire. “You’re awake!” He had a pleasant, open countenance, marked by good humor and kindness; he wore his hair pulled back in a short tail at the nape of his neck, and his eyes were a remarkable grey-brown so intense they appeared almost purple. He was very handsome.

“Thank you for saving me,” I murmured, bowing my head.

“Of course, of course,” he answered, waving a hand dismissively. “Now, then, the real question – will you bear my children?”

For a sickening moment I gaped at him.

“PERVERT!” came a ringing cry – and Shippou was back, smashing an earthenware bowl onto the monk’s head. The pottery shattered, sending shards cascading down the monk’s face and across his robes.

“Don’t worry about Miroku, Kagome-san,” said Shippou reassuringly, ignoring the stunned monk to come and sit by my side. He threw a disgusted look at his companion. “He says that to every pretty girl he meets.”

“He—does.” I was struggling to wrap my mind around this most recent development. Was I safe here?

“Ah, sorry, so sorry,” Miroku laughed, rubbing the back of his head and smiling sheepishly. “It’s an old habit.” He shrugged and opened his eyes, no hint of guile or mischief in his face. “Did Shippou here say your name was Kagome?”  

“Y-yes,” I stammered.

“A pleasure, Kagome-sama. My name is Miroku, and I am an itinerant monk who’s settled in this village for the winter. Shippou, our guest must be ravenous – would you fetch a bowl to replace the one you just broke over my poor, innocent head?”

Shippou grumbled, but darted off and returned a moment later with bowls and spoons for all of us. When Miroku reached out to lift the lid from the cooking pot, I noticed that his right hand was covered – it looked neither like a glove nor a bandage, but something between the two, and was bound with holy beads as though to contain some great evil. I had no time to muse, however; when the aroma of fresh rice and vegetables filled the house, my stomach trumpeted like a dying swan. My face heated, but Miroku simply ladled a generous helping in a bowl and passed it to me without comment. He and Shippou took some as well, and we settled in to eat.

"How did you get stuck in the snow?" Shippou asked without preamble, his mouth full. 

“Shippou!” chastised Miroku when I coughed, choking on a bite of rice. “She doesn’t owe us anything, and certainly not her life story.” After a moment of gasping and sputtering, I wiped my streaming eyes and regained my composure.

“I had nowhere to go,” I said at last.

“But where is your family?” Shippou pressed, ignoring Miroku’s continued admonishments that his questions were rude.

“I have no family,” I answered.

“Who did you live with before?”

“A place I can’t ever go back to,” I said sadly. “I had to leave, and had nowhere else to turn.” I shook my head, as though that would clear away the lingering cobwebs of grief and despair. “I would have managed all right, I think, but a bunch of bandits stole my money and flint and broke my bow. If I’d been able to hunt and make a fire …” I sighed. It was no use wishing things had been different; they weren’t. “In any case,” I resumed, meeting Miroku’s eyes, “I cannot express to you my gratitude for your hospitality and kind care. I do not wish to impose upon you any more than I have already, but I wonder if you know of any villages nearby that might be in need of a miko?”

Miroku looked at me speculatively. “As it happens, none of the hamlets in this area has a miko of their own; there is a woman who passes this way a few times a year, but she is growing older and wishes to settle with her family far away. I can sense from your aura that your spiritual power is strong; what is your training?”

“Fifteen years’ tutelage under the monk Ungai and his followers,” I recited. “I have thorough training in reading and writing, history, literature, science and mathematics, Classical Chinese, philosophy, and rhetoric.” My rote finished, I added, “I would happily teach anyone who wishes to learn, and have some healing skills in addition to staff-fighting and archery. Do you think I might find a situation as a village miko, or perhaps as a teacher?”

“Perhaps,” he mused, steepling his fingers and closing his eyes meditatively. “Perhaps. In the meantime,” he said, eyes flying open again and that warm, boyish smile returning to his face, “please don’t trouble yourself about finding a place to live. You are welcome to stay here until you heal, and I will do everything in my power to help you find a situation.”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly,” I protested. “What would people think?”

“They’d think you’re one of Miroku’s strays,” Shippou said around a mouthful of yam. Miroku smacked him amiably across the back of the head.

“Shippou’s words are graceless, but true,” he explained. “At the moment it’s only Shippou and me living here, but that’s quite recent; in the months I’ve been here, we’ve sheltered some dozen orphans, travelers, and others.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that as a single woman alone, I cannot live with a single man,” I responded, frowning.

“Miroku!” Shippou called, spraying a bit of rice in his enthusiasm. “Maybe Kirara and Sango would come back if they knew that Kagome was staying!”

Miroku’s eyes were immediately distant, and wary – but before I could ask why, the expression was gone; he smiled broadly and agreed that was an excellent idea. When we’d finished eating, he excused himself and set off to ask Sango about the possible arrangement.

“Kirara is really nice – she’s a pretty cat youkai with two tails, and she can transform and turn really big!” he enthused, gesturing wildly to show me how big the nekomata could grow: big as a small horse, if his exuberance was to be believed. “Sango is OK too, even though she’s a demon-slayer,” he added, almost as an afterthought. “She’s a really good fighter, too, and she hits Miroku when he grabs her rear. Sometimes she leaves a red handprint on his face that you can see for hours!”

“Oh,” I said faintly. I was  _really_  not sure I wanted to live with this lecherous monk. Then again, what choice did I have, at least in the short term? If I held my reputation too dear, it might cost me my life. It nearly already had.

**

As it turned out, Sango was the woman who had been periodically tending me during my convalescence, and I was pleased to have the opportunity to express my gratitude. She was a young woman of about my own age, but far prettier, with big, warm brown eyes and a shy smile. In the end, she did agree to stay with us; now that I was healing quickly, she and I shared a room towards the back of the house while Miroku and Shippou shared another at the other end. Her two-tailed cat patrolled the hallways, protecting our virtue.

I soon learned that the gentleness of her demeanor belied a remarkable strength; from an early age she had been trained as a taijiya, one of the hereditary demon-slayers that the monks at the shrine had said were no more than a legend. Under her demure kimono, she wore a close-fitting black suit that allowed her complete freedom of movement, and she carried an enormous bone boomerang as her constant companion.

“What brings you to Miroku’s home for waifs and strays?” I asked her over dinner the following night.

“I'm in search of my brother,” she confided softly, while Miroku fussed with the cooking pot, pretending not to listen. “Kohaku was once possessed by a demon and did some terrible things – when he came to his senses he was horrified and ran away from our village. I've been looking for him for three years.” There was a wistfulness to her gaze that made me long for the family that I had never known. She sighed.

“At first I kept moving, never staying in one part of Japan for more than a night, but I've had no luck. My plan is to stay here for the winter and resume my search in the spring. And in any case, you know the forest just west of here, the one that the road just barely touches? It's full of wicked demons who've been terrorizing the villages in the area. I can do real good here while I seek news of Kohaku.” She smiled at me, an open smile that felt like the sun coming out. “Kirara and I had been staying in an abandoned barn out on the edges of town, but this will be much nicer, now that there are enough of us that no one’s reputation will be compromised.” She rolled her eyes in Miroku’s direction, and he coughed and bowed, his face redder than was really warranted by the heat of the fire.

I couldn’t help but return Sango’s smile. “Indeed.”

As it turned out, despite his periodically lecherous behavior, Sango and I found that we had nothing to fear from Miroku. He was a much-beloved figure in the town, well known for his kindness and willingness to pray for anyone who asked, in addition to taking in all who needed a home. He told me that in his wandering, he used to perform exorcisms at many wealthy houses in exchange for whatever fees the owners could afford; in that way he made enough money to provide a good life for himself and relief for the poorer villages he visited.

In more than words, too, he demonstrated tremendous respect for us; he accepted Sango’s strength and fighting prowess without question, and my own spiritual power as well. Even Shippou and Kirara were tolerated in the village thanks to him; because he believed them to pose no danger, the villagers simple accepted their presence.

Shippou, for his part, took on the role of my protector with ferocious joy. He was an orphan, he told me once, and when his parents were killed he left his home to avenge their deaths. He hadn’t found the demon who had killed them, and Miroku had taken him in when he was nearly starved and frozen the previous winter. My heart broke for him – a child with so much pain in his past – but he lived his life with such great enthusiasm that it was hard to pity him.

For my part, I made do. I took walks, as my strength slowly improved over the coming months, and when I began to meditate again, Miroku offered to train me, to hone my spiritual powers. He had a very different training from the monks, better suited to healing and building personal strength than to fighting, and a tremendous store of knowledge that he was happy to share. We spent hours of every day in conversation and meditation. In return, as my body began to heal, I resumed my physical training regimen and showed him my katas. Many mornings he would join me in my exercise, and we would occasionally spar with staffs.

Every day I was grateful for the new life I had found. I did not sleep much, as sleep brought dreams of Sesshoumaru, but my new spiritual regimen kept me healthy – and more than anything, I once again had people in my life whom I could rely upon, and who relied on me in turn.

**

Day by day, I grew stronger. By the time midwinter fell, I was anxious to be doing something, to start a new life somehow, rather than merely staying alive.

I began taking on a few duties around the village from Miroku – I would go with him to attend the sick and dying, healing where I could. The villagers were hesitant, and cast dark looks my way when I passed them. More than once I heard mutterings about how I spoke like a man, too brashly and too loud; once I overheard a woman say that I had a look in my eye like a caged beast. Miroku did what he could to protect me from the people’s opinions, which I appreciated, but it was no more than I expected. The monks had prepared me for human expectations, after all, and I had never met them. I resigned myself to a life of being distrusted.

One clear, cold afternoon, though, Miroku burst into the house calling my name.

“Kagome-sama!” he cried, out of breath. “You are needed!”

I leaped to my feet and followed him without question.

As we crossed the village, I could see a cluster of people all crying in alarm, gathered around an upturned cart. As we approached, five or six of the village’s young men were hoisting it up and shifting it, while others were dragging a ragged heap out from under it. I shuddered.

“What happened?” Miroku called, using his staff to nudge people gently out of our way. When they realized he was there, the way parted for him.

“He was under the cart, repairing it, but the axle snapped,” answered a one of the onlookers, a shaken-looking young woman with an arm around the man’s sobbing wife. “He was crushed under it.”

Without a word, I pushed myself through the remaining crowd and knelt beside him. The men who had pulled him out from under the cart backed away from me, looking unnerved; at Miroku’s placid smile, they slunk away.

The man was unconscious, and his face had a horrible grey tinge under a sheen of unhealthy sweat. His breath was rattling in his chest; he was dying. I lay both hand on his chest, unleashed some portion of my aura, and began my work. The crowd watched, the worried babble dying down. Eventually, there was silence.  

When I did not speak after a few moments, Miroku pressed me. “How bad is it?”  

“Bad,” I said tersely, all my focus on the man under my hands. “Collapsed lung, spinal damage, lots of internal bleeding.”  _He should have died. He still may._  Those words I did not say, for they would help no one; but they were true. I focused all of my will and brought it down in him like a hurricane.  

The man’s condition had been dire, without question – but I had nearly forgotten that I’d accustomed myself to healing demons. He had no youki to fight me; no strength of any kind to oppose my will. I commanded his bones to re-knit, and they simply  _did_. Vein by vein, bone by bone, I reconstructed his anatomy, repairing, rebuilding. The onslaught of my power was more than enough to reverse the damage to his organs, to mend his shattered ribs, to realign the column of his spine and cushion it gently in its restored bony housing. I could heal him.

At last the man gasped and coughed, his eyes flying open, and someone behind me cried out in surprise. I sat back on my heels, blowing my hair out of my eyes; I sought out the man’s wife with my gaze and smiled at her.

“He’s going to be fine,” I said quietly. “He needs to rest, but he’s out of danger.” He was shifting anxiously my by side; I lay a hand on his chest to keep him from trying to sit up. “You,” I said sternly, “will stay where you are. You will be carried home, and you will not get out of bed for a solid, uninterrupted week. After that, you will not do any work for an additional two weeks. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, miko-sama,” he said meekly, cringing under my gaze.

Under my direction, a few young men assembled a makeshift stretcher and lay him on it, then transferred him to his own bed.

I turned to his wife. “You will let me know if he worsens,” I said, realizing as I did that I had adopted Sesshoumaru’s imperiousness. A dart of agony ripped through my chest at the unwanted memory; I smiled to hide my pain. “I expect him to heal quite well, but sometimes the unexpected can happen. Let me know if he experiences any pain or swelling in his abdomen, if he begins vomiting, or if he has any blood in his stool or urine. He will doubtless be sore for a few days—”

Before I could finish speaking, the woman threw her arms around me and buried her face in my shoulder.  

“Thank you, miko-sama,” she sobbed, clutching me tight. “Thank you.”

I had no idea what to do – I had never been embraced before, except in stolen moments with Sesshoumaru. Slowly, hesitantly, I raised my arms and rubbed soothing circles on her back, like I had for Rin. “It’s all right,” I whispered helplessly as she wept into my shoulder. “It’s going to be all right.”

She drew back from me, wiping her eyes with her sleeve and giving me a brave smile. “It  _is_  going to be all right,” she agreed. “Thanks to you. Bless you, miko-sama.” She bowed to me, then, and all the others standing around her followed suit. I bowed stiffly back, unsure what else to do, and eventually the assembled crowd dispersed, drifting back to their days.

**

From that point on, the villagers treated me with – not friendliness, precisely, but at least with less suspicion. As Miroku and I walked the streets, I was met with courteous nods and a few shy smiles – the closest thing I’d had to acceptance from humans in my life.

Word of what I’d done spread around the village, and soon to others; I found myself requested for a broken bone, a difficult birth, an infected wound, a persistent cough. Before long, I was taking day-long trips to perform healings, and in return for my help the villagers showered me with gifts and hospitality. I was soon making a comfortable living as a healer in the area.

On one of my trips, I was given a bow. Delighted to be of use again, I joined Sango on her patrols around the border of the forest. She was a ferocious warrior, with extraordinary strength and a keen intuition for battle. Between the two of us, we saw to it that no evil made its way past the edge of the forest. Eventually, too, she and I began to spar; she was the first true challenge I’d faced since I left the monastery, and it felt wonderful to stretch myself again.

The experience of fighting beside her, trusting each other with our lives, brought us closer. I had never had a female friend before, and I didn’t know quite how to interact with her. She guided me, though, sharing her thoughts, her hopes, her history. I did what I could to reciprocate, both longing for and dreading the day I felt I could tell her about my life in the House of the Moon.

One cold winter evening after dinner, Miroku knelt opposite me in front of the fire.

“Kagome-sama,” he began, “I have a proposal for you.” There was a strange sincerity, a weight to his words I hadn’t heard before; we needed to speak alone. Sango and Shippou exchanged glances and slipped into the back room, Sango pantomiming that I should punch him if he tried to touch me. I giggled.  

“I won’t bear your children, Miroku,” I said cautiously as the partition slid shut. I knew that Shippou, at least, was listening.

He bowed his head, placing a hand over his heart. “I am broken-hearted,” he answered, smiling. “But in all earnestness, Kagome-sama: if you were given the opportunity to teach a group of some twenty or thirty children of various ages from the surrounding villages, would you do it?”

“Yes,” I said, with no hesitation, something like hope rising in my chest.

“Even though you would be teaching villagers’ children, and little more than basic literacy?”

“Yes!” I cried. “Yes, with all my heart.”

“It would be a waste of your talents,” he cautioned, his brow furrowing a little. “Your fine Chinese philosophy will do you no good.”

“My fine Chinese philosophy will keep until it is needed,” I retorted. “It will not rot or wither. Miroku-sama, have you found something?”

“I have,” he said with a small smile. “The headman of the village just south of us has heard of monastic schools for orphans, and has determined to found a school of his own. I told him in my travels that I thought I had a good candidate for its teacher. You will be well-paid, and have a house of your own – will you accept?”

Had I been bolder, I would have flung my arms around him. True independence! Earning my way in the world, depending upon my own mind and skills rather than the charity of others. A life of my own, without obligation, without relying on anyone to support me. Without Sesshoumaru. Tears gathered in my eyes, then one by one spilled down over my cheeks.

“Yes,” I whispered. “Yes, I accept.”

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lovely readers,
> 
> Thank you for your patience during my abrupt absence! It’s been a bit of a soap opera here in LABT-land; in the last three weeks, I’ve been diagnosed with a scary medical condition and it’s been discovered that my mom has a brain tumor. Everything’s been in a bit of uproar, and writing had to take a back seat for a bit. Mom and I are both doing well, though, and I’m really looking forward to settling back into a normal routine of writing. I’ll try to get one up this Saturday, but if I can’t manage this week, next week for sure. We’re getting near the end, here – thanks for hanging in with me and seeing this little romp through!
> 
> -LABT

My new school was everything I’d hoped. I was responsible for some fifteen children of various ages, who came from three local villages. Some of them walked hours to be with me every morning. The youngest ones were perhaps Rin’s age, the oldest near as old as I was. All were happy to spend the winter – when they weren’t needed by their parents on their farms or at other occupations – learning to read and write, in the hopes that some day their knowledge might build them a road out of poverty. I still acted as the local healer, but I traveled less; a day or two every week I would visit people who were in extreme situations, but more often than not people came to me. The children were fascinated by my ability to heal, and I was able to use my abilities to teach them about the forces of the spiritual world. My reputation spread; by the time spring came, people were traveling far to be healed by me.

To my delight, Sango came with me when I moved. The house I was given – which doubled as my schoolroom – was far too much space for one person; I was grateful for the company, and she was grateful to have a place to live with another single woman. Miroku remained a short distance away from us, always a welcome guest at our fire, and we at his. Sango spoke often of Miroku with frustration and irritation, although sometimes her anger seemed disproportionate to his crimes. I also wondered about the strange expressions the monk sometimes wore when she was near – a wistfulness, a closed-off-ness that was deeply incongruent with his usual open friendliness. I wanted them to be friends, but they bickered so much that I despaired of it.

In the end, too, I managed to convince Shippou to attend my lessons with the human children. His humor, cleverness, and good temper stood him in good stead; he soon became the first demon friend many of those children had ever had. I hoped he would not be the last.

As spring began to thaw the fields and the trees dripped with the remnants of the last snows, the children began reluctantly to tell me that they were needed on their parents’ farms; by the time the buds were pushing their way through the mud, my school room was empty save Shippou. I had a few weeks' reprieve while the planting season was in full swing, and planned to resume classes in the summer until the harvest took the children away again. Sango left the village when spring came, promising to return to us in the fall, with or without her lost brother.

In the absence of my teaching responsibilities, I resumed my training with Miroku and took over patrolling the forest border in Sango's absence, honing my skills against the marauding demons and the human bandits alike. In the evenings, Shippou and I would often sit together and practice his reading and his calligraphy. Shippou was a great comfort to me, especially while Sango was away. We laughed and played the way I had always longed to with Rin; I taught him and scolded him and comforted him. Before long, he nestled into my side as we read at night; he’d fall asleep on my shoulder after a trying day; he all but purred when I ran my fingers through his hair. Those were signs I knew, even from my limited life in the House of the Moon – pack. I had a pack. The night I realized it, I wept with joy into his russet fur, and he nuzzled me reassuringly in his sleep. It was a happy life, and my days sped by. 

It felt like the blink of an eye before students were clamoring for classes again, and soon after I resumed my teaching in the fall, Sango returned – weary, saddened. I wordlessly set out a futon for her in my schoolhouse dwelling, and, accepting with silent gratitude, my sister was home. It was like we were never parted.

I threw myself into my life with abandon, hoping that I could force myself into happiness with sheer willpower. My dreams of Sesshoumaru did not abate, nor did the crippling ache in my chest every time I thought of him. 

One blustery day in early winter, I had a realization that nearly shattered me. My quiet life here had been utterly uninterrupted. At first I had been pleased with myself, thinking I had eluded Sesshoumaru, that my clever ruses in the stream had covered my tracks. The truth, however, was inescapable. I may have been able to throw him off the scent and delay him by a few days, a few weeks – but Sesshoumaru was a mighty hunter, his prowess unmatched even among inuyoukai. If he had sought me, he would have found me. It was as it should have been, without a doubt, but reader, how my heart broke to realize that he had not even looked for me!

In the spring, Sango departed again, leaving an emptiness in my heart that was hard to bear. Shippou’s devotion was my only consolation; I threw myself into my healing work, trying to fend off the demons of loneliness that threatened to consume me.

I was doing my katas in the empty schoolroom one chilly spring morning when Miroku knocked on the doorframe with his staff. I started so hard I nearly overbalanced, and turned to him, red-faced and laughing. The grave look on his face quelled my embarrassment.

"What has happened?" I asked without preamble, my manners and hospitality forgotten.

He bowed his head as though concealing a smile. "May I come in?"

                       

Scrambling for the children's mats where they rested against the wall, I hastily laid out as much hospitality as I could muster. I had grabbed an iron kettle and was heading for my partitioned-off living space in search of my small stash of precious tea when he stopped me with a raised hand.

"No tea is necessary, Kagome-sama," he assured me, kneeling on a mat and gesturing to the one opposite him. "Please, join me."

I set the kettle down and knelt before him, knotting my fingers together anxiously. Miroku seldom came calling on me, and never with the seriousness I currently saw on his face. He drew a letter from his sleeve and lay it on his lap, folding his hands over it.

"I have asked you no questions about your past, Kagome-sama," he said softly, his eyes fixed on a point in the corner of the room. "I know it to be none of my concern. But I must ask you: were you ever in the service of a demon-lord?"

I did not answer, but I could feel my face heat; I knew my blushes must have given me away.

"I received this letter from my master, Mushin, a few days ago, and have been trying to decide how best to broach this with you," he murmured. "May I—?" he took up the letter and unfolded it, his eyebrows raised at me in question. I nodded. He lifted the paper and began to read.

"To my pupil, the honored monk Miroku: I send you greetings. I know your lifestyle leads you many places, and so I entrust this missive to Hachiemon, knowing that he will find you where a human would fail. An honored monk who trained with me in our youth has written from his deathbed to request my aid, and so I write to you. My friend had a son who died young, leaving his widow with her two infant children in my friend's care. While visiting the Daimyo some sixteen or seventeen years ago, a plague struck his shrine, killing his daughter-in-law and one of the two children. The other, however, escaped death that day and ways raised by the honorable Ungai at his shrine in the Western lands. Miroku, my son – her name, she told him, was Kagome, and the only Kagome I have heard tell of is the disgraced miko who had enmeshed herself with the demons of the House of the Moon.”

I must have let out a strangled noise; Miroku glanced up at me, eyes sharp. “The recent happenings in the demon-lord of the West’s domain have been of great concern to the holy orders,” he said carefully. “The presence of a miko in the house of one of the cardinal daiyoukai was troublesome enough to many. But to hear, as I recently have, that he had another miko imprisoned, and planned to make them his concubines—”

“No!” I cried, the sound wrenched involuntarily from my throat. I realized how that single word implicated me, but I could not allow Sesshoumaru’s honor – or my own – to be impugned so unfairly. “That’s not how it was at all!”

Miroku raised an eyebrow, clearly interested, but then shook his head. “I hope, Kagome-sama, that you will return with me this evening to share a meal, and perhaps you might correct my misapprehensions. But in the meantime, there is more pressing news in this letter, if you will hear it.”

I clamped my lips closed and nodded.

He lifted the letter and cleared his throat. “My friend begged me to search for his granddaughter from his deathbed, and I wrote to the House of the Moon – but his illness was too swift, and he left this world before I received an answer. I have since learned that the dishonored miko Kagome has fled the House of the Moon, and I ask that if you encounter her in your travels that you write to me. Despite the scandal of his granddaughter’s conduct, my friend nonetheless has left her all that he had in this world – his shrine, and the entirety of his fortune. With his dying breath he begged me to find her, and so I must put my own distaste aside and obey. It is a task that weighs heavily on my conscience, as you can no doubt imagine. Please, Miroku, for the sake of our long friendship, I ask that you help me to bear this burden.”

For a long moment I sat, my heart in my throat.  _Scandal—distaste—disgrace—dishonor._ My grandfather must have been ashamed of me – and I could never redeem myself to him. Miroku was watching my face, his eyes sharp and penetrating despite his placid expression.

After a moment of silence, he sighed, and bowed his head as though acquiescing to some silent demand. “I require no explanations,” he said quietly. “Your past is your own, and I have seen enough of you as you are now to make my judgement as to your character. But in the name of our friendship, I ask that you tell me this, truthfully: are you the granddaughter the man my master speaks of?”  

I lowered my head and nodded. “My—grandfather,” I started at last. “My grandfather, whom I will never know—is dead.” My voice was trembling. I knew I had no right to mourn him, a man I had never even met. But mourn him I did, and I mourned the future I had imagined, in which I reunited with him and had a family of my own.

“You have my deepest condolences, Kagome-sama,” Miroku murmured, the words formulaic but sincerity in his tone. “If you will allow it, I will write to my master and we will arrange for your fortune to be brought to you, that you may dispose of it as you will.” 

“Fortune?” I gasped, drawing back as though bitten. I had nearly forgotten about that part. “I have no need of wealth.”

“Nonetheless, you are now a wealthy woman,” Miroku answered, a wry smile on his face as he handed me the letter which detailed my fortune below the note. “Quite independent, I should think.”

 _Independence._ I scowled as I ran my eyes over the figures. It was a tremendous amount of money, more than I had any need for in my frugal life – and I certainly had no intention of altering my life now that I had at last found something like happiness. I would allow Miroku to assist me in receiving my fortune, since his relationship with his master was at stake, but I would not give up the life I had built. Not for anything.

**

In the end, despite some initial resistance on the part of Miroku, I determined that he and Sango would take equal parts of my grandfather’s fortune, with another portion set aside for Shippou to receive when he reached his majority. I used some part of my own money to furnish the school with supplies and scholarly scrolls, but even after spending what felt like an exorbitant amount of money on the school, I still had more than enough to keep me fed and housed for the rest of my life. Sango returned from her – again fruitless – summer search, and discovered herself to be wealthy as well; she fell sobbing on my shoulder, murmuring about rebuilding her village and reuniting her scattered family with my generosity. In practically the same breath, I confessed the whole of my story to her, from leaving the monastery through my time in the House of the Moon; she stared with wide eyes, but embraced me warmly at the end of my tale all the same, and did not cease to call me sister. Some part of me – the wildest part, the part that most longed for my place in the demon-pack of the West – shuddered and broke with relief that she saw me and did not flee.  

The year fled with startling abruptness; soon spring arrived and Sango left again in search of her brother. My heart broke more than ever to watch her leave; the sister of my heart, the friend I had longed for my whole life. But I knew what it meant to be driven; I knew that she had no choice. 

Miroku watched her go with an expression in those strange lavender eyes I had never seen before, and turned to me with a sigh as she disappeared into the wood. “Well, Kagome-sama,” he began, the chipper tone of his voice hiding something I couldn’t quite identify. I knew he too was sad to see Sango go, but this seemed like something more. “While your students are busy with their planting, would you consent to begin a new kind of training?”

He had my attention. “What kind of training?”  

He rubbed idly at his gloved hand. “I have grown complacent,” he sighed. “I have a mission that I must complete, and I have enjoyed my time in this village so greatly that I have allowed myself to be sidetracked.” He cast a serious glance my way. “Would you aid me, Kagome-sama?” 

“Insofar as I am able, of course,” I answered without hesitation. “Anything that is within my power, I will do.”

He smiled then, a boyish, disarming smile that changed his whole demeanor. I couldn’t help the smile that blossomed across my face in response. “Kagome-sama, let us patrol the forest border together.”

We walked along together for some time, the chatter of birdsong from within the forest feeling loud in the absence of speech. At last he came to a halt, and seated himself on a low boulder with his back to the forest; I took its mate. The silence between us was growing heavy.

“Kagome-sama,” he began at last, holding up his right wrist and jingling the rosary that bound the glove in place. “Have you never wondered why I wear this?”

“Your past is your own,” I murmured, echoing words he’d said to me many times over. “I would not force from you anything you would not freely give.”

He smiled mirthlessly. “This is a part of my past that I cannot soon escape.” He unknotted the rosary, pressing the beads to his palm for a moment. “Kagome-sama, I ask that you watch closely; I do not intend to demonstrate again unless we are in earnest battle.” 

I nodded mutely, and he whipped the covering off his hand.

The world roared to chaotic life around me, as though I’d been dropped into a hurricane. I dropped to my knees and threw up a barrier of purity before me; it did little. Rocks sticks and clods of earth were being sucked up from across open plain. I squinted, trying to get a good look at Miroku through the whipping wind and the hair that writhed around me, stinging my face. He was holding his right palm outward, wielding his arm like a weapon, and there was a hungry black emptiness in the center of his palm that pulled in spiraling currents of wind and debris with the force of a mighty gale.

In a single swift movement, he covered his palm again and looped the rosary around the glove. The wind ceased as abruptly as it had begun; the plain was deathly silent, the birds all fled. My breath was coming in gasps.

“That, Kagome-sama, is my family’s curse,” he continued as though he had never ceased speaking. “It was inflicted upon my grandfather by an evil half-demon, and has been passed down through the generations since. In every generation, it grows gradually until it consumes its bearer.” He clenched his fist around the rosary beads. “It killed my grandfather. It killed my father – I watched my him die, with Master Mushin holding me back from joining him. And, one day, it will kill me.”

My eyes were full of tears. “Can nothing be done?” I whispered.

He shook his head. “There is only one cure – to find and kill the demon who bespelled my grandfather.” His fists clenched again on his knees, bunching the fabric of his robes. “I have spent most of my life seeking him, but he is as cunning as he is wicked. He has slipped out of every trap and flipped every ambush on its head. I have never come close to him.” 

My heart broke for him. The lifetime of pain he had hidden! My own helplessness was overwhelming. “Is there nothing  _I_ can do to be of assistance?” I asked.

He smiled up at me, appearing to shake off the melancholy of his earlier words. “Actually, Kagome-sama, I think there might.”

He settled himself into the lotus position on the ground, and taking his cue, I sat opposite him. His eyes were closed in meditation; I was reminded suddenly of Master Ungai, and suppressed a shudder. I cleared my thoughts, and allowed my power to swell up into the emptiness.

“When I was a young monk in training,” Miroku said, his voice skimming across the surface of my consciousness, “Master Mushin tried to teach me this discipline. It can be learned by a lone person if their spiritual power is great enough, but for average monks – and mikos – it is best practiced in pairs. The pairing is only for training; once mastered, both parties will be able to perform the act alone on command. Mushin and I were never able to taste more than the smallest hint of success.” I felt his aura expand around us a bit, shifting restlessly until it was fully extended. I did not modulate my aura in the slightest.

“Kagome-sama,” he prodded gently. “Release your aura in full.”

“I must not,” I answered, my eyes still closed. The feel of Ungai’s staff on my back broke through my meditation. No one could know – only Sesshoumaru could bear the strength of my aura. I would frighten him; I would overwhelm him. He would hate me. 

“You must,” he replied.

“I cannot,” I whispered, shame and despair shattering my meditation entirely. “Tell me what else I must do, and I will release it if it cannot be done any other way.” I drew a trembling breath. “Please.”

I heard him sigh. “The goal is to manifest your spiritual power as a physical object. Monks and mikos are seldom able to do more than simply imbuing power into staffs, sutras, or holy arrows – and this technique in some ways echoes that of the strongest youkai. The very strongest of the daiyoukai have the power to wield a sword or whip made of energy, or create a cloud or sphere of light to carry them. That is their youki made physical.” I opened my eyes, Sesshoumaru’s form too painfully present in my mind’s eye. Miroku’s eyes were still closed, but he knew I had come fully out of my meditation; he smiled.  

“Although few of us are as powerful as a daiyoukai, there are ways in which monks have learned to pass power back and forth between each other as children toss a ball; power draws out power, so they amplify each other to a point where even a mediocre talent may be able to manifest a small weapon. Few can manage even a single arrow. I will teach you how to manifest a needle – the most Mushin and I were able to accomplish – and we can go from there.”

I closed my eyes again and again cleared my mind.  _How is my weapon formed?_ The question echoed in the emptiness of my mind – not quite my own voice, but no one else’s.  _Must I pour my power into a mold?  Build it from clay, carve it from stone, grow it like a tree—_ My thoughts went silent; I had hit upon it. I imagined placing a seed of my power on the earth beneath me, then watched it root deep into the soil. As the roots spread like a forking lightning bolt through the ground beneath me, my power shot up into my waiting hands.  _What will its form be?_  came the voice in my mind again.  _A sword—_ I saw in my mind’s eye a guard’s swords from the House of the Moon, Sesshoumaru’s crest on its pommel. No.  _A staff_ —I saw Ungai’s. No!  _A bow_ —I saw Sesshoumaru’s courting gift to me, the beautiful yew bow strung with moth-youkai silk, the inlaid quiver full of arrows fletched with phoenix feathers. My heart felt as though it would burst. With a sob, I clenched my hands – and they closed around the glowing shape of a bow, its elegant curves and braided bowstring unmistakably the same as my courting gift. The form of a quiver all in pink light lay across it. They felt as solid in my hands as though they were made of wood and steel, leather and feathers; I hefted the bow in one hand and the quiver in the other, slung the quiver over my shoulder, and rose.  

With power like nothing I had felt before flowing through my veins, filling me with fire and honey and flood-tides and windstorms, I took aim at the fluffy peak of a cloud, and fired. An arc of lightning ripped across the midday sky, dragging a mountainous wake of pink fire behind it.

I hefted the bow again, spinning it for a moment as though it were a staff. The quiver vanished from my shoulder, and when I held the bow out to examine it, it had turned in a magnificent staff. I swung it a few times experimentally, then performed a brief staff-kata with it. Pleased with the balance and heft, I planted the foot of it onto a stone – which broke audibly under my foot, cracks spiderwebbing across the stone from the crater in its center.

“K—Kagome-sama,” Miroku gasped.  I whirled to face him; I had forgotten he was there! He sat sprawled back on the grass as though he’d been blown backwards, and he was gaping at me with fear in his wide eyes.

Abashed and horrified by my display, I yanked my power back inside me. The staff melted away, and I reined my aura in to a polite size far smaller even than my usual. I sank to my knees, my face hot.

“Forgive me, Miroku-sama,” I stammered, my heart pounding in my throat, my head bowed deep. “I did not mean to—I got carried away. I apologize.” I gulped in fresh spring air, but it did nothing to cool my burning cheeks. “Please continue.”

“You—” he gulped, slowly righting himself. “Never have I seen such power, Kagome-sama.”

I bowed my head deeper, squeezing my eyes shut. I had ruined everything. He would hate me. Hot tears burned at my eyes, and I squeezed my eyes shut to keep them from escaping and waited for his words of horror and recrimination.

“I understand why you keep your power hidden,” he said at last. “There is a ferocity to it, a wildness that will frighten those who would see you as a simple village miko. You must never allow the villagers to see you like that.” My hands clenched at the fabric of my hakama. I knew that much. “You seem to be able to keep it in check, for the most part; if you wish me to teach you further ways of reining your power in, I will.”

For a moment, rage welled up in my throat. He would teach me? He, who had never needed to hide anything about himself, who was beloved and accepted wherever he went, would teach me – when I had been hiding my aura since I was child, to keep from being beaten? When I had avoided human company because I was afraid of being deemed a threat, a witch? When I had to hide all I was and all I was capable of being in order to not make the people around me afraid of me?  _He_  would teach  _me_?

I drew a shaking breath, willing my fury to calm. He meant well. He was kind – he was my friend.

“In any case, Kagome-sama,” he continued, not noting my momentary slip, “you clearly have the knack for manifesting your power physically.” I opened my eyes and looked up at him at last – he was smiling at me. “Will you help me improve my own? A needle will not do me much good against Naraku.”

I bowed my head in assent and drew a shaky breath. I would help my friend. That was something I could do. Drawing a small ball of power into my hands, barely bigger than an acorn, I tossed it to him. He caught it and tossed it back – and sure enough, there was a small spike in his own aura; I was drawing more power out of him than he was able to manifest on his own.  

I would keep my aura reined in; I would never allow myself another display like today’s; I would be a correct miko to his correct monk. I would help my friend, and I would  _never_ be careless enough to put my true self on display again.

**

Miroku and I trained. Summer fled; Sango returned, to my joy and Miroku’s private sorrow. A certain clarity came from using my power so freely, and at last I saw what was between them. He loved her beyond love, but held himself back – for fear of bringing a new generation of cursed monks into the world, for fear of dying young and abandoning her the way his father had abandoned him.  

The winter was long and dark. I taught. We trained. Miroku was able to manifest a small blade, the size of my index finger. Shippou grew, and once accidentally called me mother. My heart felt as though it would burst through my ribs. Sango confessed to me that she loved Miroku, but was confused and angered by how he distanced himself from her. I wished fruitlessly that I could help them, but what did I know of the human heart?

Spring came again, and again Sango departed. Miroku was able to manifest a dagger nearly as long as my hand. Summer flew past.

In the fall, as we were awaiting Sango’s return, Miroku asked me to walk with him. Not a patrol – a simple walk, to discuss something of importance.  

“Kagome-sama,” he began at last. “We have grown close in the years we have lived as neighbors, have we not?”

“Indeed,” I said with a smile. “You are like a brother to me, Miroku-sama.”

He frowned pensively. “Given our closeness, I wonder – would you consider leaving your life as a village healer and teacher, and traveling with me to seek out Naraku, and to protect human villages from demons as we travel?”

I gaped at him. “Leave – leave my life here?” I blinked, looking out across the horizon. I had never hoped for as much happiness and independence as I had in the village – but the wild part of me was desperate to see the world. A hope sprang up inside me like a budding flower. “Can Sango and Shippou travel with us? Perhaps we could help Sango to find—”

“No,” he said hastily. “Sango has her own quest. Shippou is a child, and should not be put in danger’s way like that either; he will stay here in the care of the village headman.”

I frowned. Leaving Shippou and Sango behind – the thought sent a bolt of grief through me, making me shudder. It felt like Rin and Mayumi and Katsura all over again. Sweet Rin, with her gap-toothed smiles. I swallowed hard, forcing myself to return to the question at hand. I remembered suddenly the gravity of what was at stake for Miroku – his very life depended upon this journey.

“I would like to travel, to see the country,” I said softly. “And I would dearly love to assist you in your quest to undo your curse.” I looked around at the low fields and the now-russet forest in the distance, the place I had come to call home. “Can we return here?”

“When our quest is finished,” he answered with a bow. “May I take that as assent?”

I watched a bird soar up from the forest, tracing its path until it flew in front of the sun and I lost sight of it. “Yes,” I said at last. “I will travel with you, and help you find Naraku.” 

“Excellent!” he cried jovially. “We’ll be married in short order, and—”

“Married?” I gasped, whirling to face him. “Miroku, I cannot marry you.”

He was staring at me blankly. “We cannot travel together unwed!”

“We must – I will travel as your sister, as your pupil, as whatever you wish, but – marriage! It is too much to contemplate!”

“Kagome-sama,” he said, a frown crinkling his brow. “Imagine coming into a town and requesting a place to stay for the night. We  _must_  be wed – imagine what people would say, what kind of example we would set!”

“I don’t care what people would say,” I said doggedly. “We would do nothing improper; why should we mind if there are rumors?”

“Your reputation—”

“Is mine to guard, and I value my heart over it,” I said, the words tumbling out of my mouth. “I cannot marry you, Miroku – I do not love you.”

“Love!” He scoffed, a bitterness in his voice I had seldom heard. “Foolishness. You and I are compatible; we have similar goals and desires. We would have as good a chance of happiness as any couple, and better than most.”

Sesshoumaru’s face appeared in my mind’s eye, clear as the sun and more brilliant. “You love Sango,” I whispered. “This self-deception is beneath you; you should not marry me any more than I should marry you.”

He looked as though I had slapped him. “I cannot marry Sango,” he said, his voice strangled. “I will not subject her to young widowhood.”

“But you would subject me to it? You are my friend, Miroku – I don’t want to see you die young any more than she.”

“But you could help me seek out and destroy Naraku!” he cried. “With your power—”

“Sango is a tremendous warrior,” I reminded him crisply. “She would be a more powerful ally than I, if you wanted a companion to aid you in killing demons.” I scowled at him, growing angrier by the moment. “And in  _any_  case, have you  _asked_  Sango? Have you told her, ‘My family line is afflicted by a curse, but I wish to marry you. Would you choose to marry someone who may leave you alone, and whose children may possess the same curse?’ Because if you are merely assuming you know her heart without ever having asked her, then by depriving her of choice you are demonstrating an  _appalling_  lack of respect for her.” I poked him in the chest with an angry finger. “She is your equal, and you would do well to treat her as such.”

He stumbled backwards, eyes wide. “I—I cannot—”

“You can and you should, and you know it full well,” I retorted, turning away from him.

“Kagome-sama,” he called weakly. “You will not aid me against Naraku? You will leave me to face him alone?”

“Miroku,” I sighed, looking up at the sky in exasperation. “I will help you; I will fight by your side; I will use all my power to hunt down the one who cursed your family. But I will not marry you. Will you allow me to travel with you unwed?”

“How can you be so firm and so foolish?” he cried. “Can you not see how impossible it would be for us to be together without being bound to each other – the disgrace it would bring? Can you not see how easily marriage would remove all obstacles? Tamp down your unseemly wildness and make one clever decision in your life!”

I withdrew from him, hurt. Before the movement was even complete, however, the hurt had morphed into rage. “If I make  _one clever decision_ ,” I hissed, “it will be never to saddle myself with a partner who neither loves me nor respects my wishes.” Sesshoumaru’s face flashed before my eyes. He had lied to me, he had misled me; out of desperation and weakness and fear of losing me, he had made decisions that had hurt us both. But his love for me – the incandescent passion we shared when we were together – and the way that he saw me, the  _true_  me, was something I would never find again. And for all his weaknesses, his love for me was founded on respect. He did not want me to change; I was enough.  

 _Sesshoumaru_. A homesickness swept over me, so intense it made me dizzy. Home. Sesshoumaru was home. This had been a haven, a place for me to heal; this was not where I belonged. My soul sang out like a bird when the thought came to me.

I needed to go home. 


	15. Chapter 15

I soon found myself on the road in fall again, but this time was much different than the last. No longer shivering in my thin sleeping yukata, I tread the road in the robes of a respected miko. No longer destitute and starved, I carried with me a small fortune in gold and the fresh-baked parting gifts of a grateful village. No longer dying of loneliness, I travelled with a little red-headed boy by my side.  

Finishing my business in the village had been a faster process than I had expected. I was relieved that Sango had returned before my preparations were complete; I did not want to leave without a word to her, but now that I had made up my mind, I could not delay. We parted with tearful embraces, swearing to write to each other, and to visit. Shippou, on hearing that I was leaving, begged to be allowed to come with me. Indeed, I could not bear the thought of being parted from him, nor the idea that he would be left in the care of the village headman when Miroku departed on his own quest; I had hoped he would be willing to stay with me. Again he called me mother, and again some part of my soul blossomed with joy.

The headman accepted my resignation at the school with excellent grace, and promised to see to it that another teacher was found for the children. The families of the village – nearly all of whom had seen me for one illness or another, or had children I had taught – gathered together to see me off, offering gifts and blessings for my safe travel. Tears burned at my eyes to see them all together – people I had helped, people who were grateful to have known me. Miroku was conspicuously absent.

Shippou and I set off in good spirits, him chattering happily about nothing in particular, and occasionally asking questions about the life we were moving towards. He didn’t seem particularly surprised that I was taking him to a demon house, though he looked a little apprehensive at the prospect of meeting the Lord of West. We followed the road north, crossing the bridge over the stream that had nearly cost me my feet, but followed the road to its next fork and only then turned to the West. The safer path was also the longer one; we camped twice, entertaining each other with silly made-up stories and dining on the villagers’ generosity. I never dreamed that travel could be so enjoyable.

On the second morning, when dawn painted the tree-tops with a luminous red-gold, I was already awake and waiting for Shippou to stir. Today was the day. Today I would reunite with Sesshoumaru.

Four years had passed since I had fled the House of the Moon. I was now twenty-two, considered an old maid by many. I had lost none of my physical strength or fighting prowess, thanks to my daily training, but my figure was less slim and lithe than it had been; looking at my shadow before me as I faced the West, I looked less like a sapling and more like a sake jar. I wondered how much I had visibly aged.

Would he hate me for abandoning him as I had? Would he even allow me into his house? Perhaps the guards wouldn’t let us get close; perhaps they had orders to keep me out. I reminded myself – again – that I could not expect that he had lived these last four years as I had, thinking of no one but him. I steeled myself against the likely truth, that nothing had changed, that he was unable to take a mate and he would either despise me for leaving or wish me to live as his concubine; I steeled myself against the possibility that somehow his curse had been lifted and that he had mated Kagura in my absence. I steeled myself against the worst fate of all – that he had forgotten me.

Shippou and I traveled the better part of the day, arriving at familiar scenery in midafternoon. The sun was bright in a cloudless autumn sky, and I knew that momentarily we would round the last turn in the road and see the House of the Moon rising up against the sky like a might pine, majestic and imperious. Now that I was here, I found myself trembling. What would I say to him? What would he say to me?  

It did not matter. This was my quest, and I would see it through. Straightening my spine and steeling my resolve, I pushed on. We rounded the bend. 

The House of the Moon rose up before us in ruins, nearly half of its bulk now no more than a burnt-out skeleton. 

I stopped dead in the middle of the road, too aghast to move. Sensing my distress, Shippou wrapped his arms around me and buried his face in my side. I knelt beside him and he clung to me, nuzzling my hair to comfort me. For a moment we simply stood, unsure what to do, unsure where to go. I stroked Shippou's hair unthinkingly, my mind whirling. Had the House of the Moon been attacked? What had happened? Most importantly – who had survived? Was Sesshoumaru—Sesshoumaru couldn't be dead. Could he? 

At last, when the worst of my shock had passed, I gave Shippou a reassuring squeeze and suggested we go have a look at the ruin. He nodded, still looking at me as though afraid I might suddenly burst into tears. I was forcibly reminded that he could likely smell my despair, so no amount of brave smiles would reassure him. Nonetheless, I smiled, and we walked towards the broken wreck that had once been the heart of the western lands. 

We entered through the broken gate and stood in the courtyard, taking stock. No one had set foot here in a long, long time. There were no auras around; no birdsong, no footsteps. It was empty. Shippou made for the entrance but I held him back with a hand on his shoulder. 

"Is there anyone here, Shippou?" I asked, my voice loud in the eerie silence. "I can feel no auras, but I do not have your other senses." 

He shook his head. "There hasn't been anyone here in a long time," he whispered. "There's no scent of any living thing." 

I nodded, looking around. There was a crater in the earth where something heavy had struck the ground hard, but no other signs of anything but fire. I shook myself. 

"Well!" I said with as much cheer as I could muster. "We won't get many answers here. Let's try the guards' barracks down the road, and see if we can find someone to talk to." 

Shippou and I trudged another mile to the guardhouse, and to my relief there was smoke coming from its chimney. As we neared it, though, I noted that it too was dilapidated, derelict – all but falling apart. 

"A single inuyoukai male," Shippou whispered. I nodded; I had sensed his faint aura. He was weak; not a guard. I hid my aura, and we crept cautiously to the door and peered inside. 

The main room of the barracks was in terrible disarray; broken beams hung crookedly from the ceiling, the screens were more hole than paper, and a thick layer of dust covered the whole room save the doorway. An old inuyoukai was crouched before a low fire, poking at the pot that hung over it. 

"Wondered if you'd come this way," he said genially, his back still to us. "If you're hungry you're welcome to a bite; there's not much, but what I have I'll share." 

"Who are you?" I asked, my curiosity and concern overcoming my politeness. 

"Just a traveler, human-san," he said, turning to face us. His face was scarred, but he had an open enough countenance. His eyes took in my clothing and a hint of distrust crossed his face, but I lay a protective hand on Shippou’s shoulder – I was no enemy of youkai, but I would retaliate if attacked. He shrugged and returned to his pot. "This house is owned by no one, nor has been in years; any traveler can use it as has need of it."

I met Shippou's eyes, and he shrugged; the man seemed to harbor no malice. We joined him by his fire, making ourselves more welcome by offering him dried fish and rice balls. The rice he dropped into his stew to thicken it; the fish he simply ate, closing his eyes in pleasure. 

“How did you come to be here?” I asked, trying to hide my impatience as he ladled a bit of soup into a cup and handed it to me.

“Oh, I go where the road takes me,” he answered dismissively. “I used to like to walk these lands when the Lord still lived in the castle.”

“Do you know what happened to the castle?” Shippou burst out, to the man’s amusement.

“Why yes, little one, but it’s a dire tale!” he cackled, visibly delighted to have an audience. “Some years ago, a miko came to lord’s gate—”

“Yes,” I interrupted, “We’re heard about her, how she tutored the lord’s ward. What of the fire?” 

The old demon grimaced, but otherwise ignored me. “Yes, well. As it turned out, the lord fell in love with her—”

“But the fire—!” I interjected, and the man shot me a look that could have curdled milk.

 “THE LORD,” he said deliberately, speaking over me, “fell in love with this human miko, strange and small and human though she was. But it turned out even the great Lord of the West had been ensnared by the evil of a terrible creature—born of miko magic and witchcraft, who could have purified the whole of the land if she’d ever escaped! She had ensnared the lord into a mating-trap, so that the lord could never take another mate so long as she lived.” Shippou gasped, his eyes like saucers; I had perhaps left a few details out of the tale I had told him. I waited. “He had sworn to mate the miko—” I did not correct him, though some part of me was tempted. “—but his deception was revealed, and she fled in anger.” He gestured with his bowl. “How the lord raged! The heavens shook with his despair, but even as he took to the skies to seek his lost love, the north attacked the castle.” 

It was my turn to gasp. “Kai!” I breathed.

“Indeed,” the youkai agreed, seeming pleased I had been drawn into his tale at last. “News of the mating-trap and the monster had reached the North, and in the face of this weakness, the young firebrand Kai had decided on a desperate final attempt to secure a victory over the West. Near-disgraced as he was by his previous treacheries, only a few dared follow him, but nonetheless he and his small band of wolves managed to break into the castle and set the whole place ablaze.”

“The Lord of the West raged, torn between protecting his shiro and seeking out his lost love, but the wolves reached the top floor of the castle and loosed the monster.” I gasped, leaning forward.  _Kikyou could not be free!_ “She killed the marauding wolves without a second thought, simply purifying them to ash, before the lord could reach her. At last she and the lord faced each other, standing together on the top of the castle’s roof as the building burned around them.”

“What a fight it was!” he cried, gesticulating wildly. His spoon leaped out of his bowl and clattered to the dusty floor. “The lord and the miko-monster darted and weaved, slashing at each other with sword and knife and youki-whips and purifying blasts. The lord lost an arm and took a knife-slash across his eyes before he managed to disarm her; but even disarmed she cursed him, sealing his youki within him – he was unable to heal, unable to see, unable even to scent her or sense her aura. It seemed like there was no hope for the Lord of the West – he would fall to a monster, and in his own home! Just then, right at the very moment that the monster was about to kill him, the roof collapsed, and both of them were flung from the castle and crashed to earth.” Shippou let out a little cry. I clenched my fists into the fabric of my hakama. The man looked at us, seeming satisfied with our appreciation for his tale, and sat back. 

“What became of them?” I asked at last, when it seemed he would not volunteer the rest of the story without prodding.

“Well,” he said, setting his bowl down carefully on the floor next to his fallen spoon. “The monster struck the ground and smashed into a million clay shards – you can still see them if you enter the castle.” He delighted in Shippou’s shudder. “All the restless souls bound within its body were freed, and scattered off to their rest like ghostly ribbons. The lord too struck earth like a comet, his wounds grievous. Because his youki had been sealed, as well, his ability to heal was all but gone.”

“Did he live?” I whimpered, unable to stop myself.  

The youkai shook his head sadly. “The lord survived, but what kind of life is it when a youkai cannot heal, and has no better senses than a human?” He nodded apologetically to me. “No offense intended, of course.” 

“Of course,” I murmured, my mind whirling. “But he lives?”

“Oh yes, if you can call it life – a few of his most trusted retainers bore him away to his father’s house, and there he has been shut away these four years, seen by no one. He still rules the west, in his way – still provides medicine and food for those as need it, and his half-brother has taken up a patrol to protect the border. He's also the Inu no Taishou's son, and powerful enough to keep most enemies at bay. The Lord of the North has also lent some forces to protect the West, as a tribute to their long alliance and in apology for the trouble that Kai caused. But it seems the lord himself is mostly done with living, now. Some say he died long ago, and that rumors of his reclusive life are a lie to prevent the West from falling.”

“Storyteller-sama,” I said abruptly, rising and bowing low. “I thank you for your tale. Which direction is the lord’s new castle?” 

“Farther west,” he answered, surprised. “Deeper in the wilderness, at the foot of the mountains. Grand old place, or it was – not sure how well kept it may be these days, even with the lord in residence.”

“If we follow the road—?”

“No, no, not the road. Due west from here, you’ll find a deer path as will take you all the way to the sea. The Inu no Taishou’s manor lies that way.” He squinted at me. “I don’t think you’re likely to get too warm a welcome, though,” he added. “Even blind, one-armed, and as deaf and unscenting as a human, he’s a formidable warrior and will as like kill you as suffer you to see him disgraced.” 

“We will be cautious,” I assured him, reaching down for Shippou’s hand. We thanked him and set off.

“He can’t smell anymore? Or see?” Shippou asked as we picked our way through the underbrush.

“I don’t know,” I said softly. “Many of the other elements of his tale were embellished or exaggerated, but the core of truth was there. Perhaps it is true.” The mighty Sesshoumaru, Lord of the West, fallen so far? The despair I imagined in his proud heart left me breathless. I felt guilt, too – for had I not thought that he had abandoned me? My poor love! He could not seek me out. He needed me to come find him – and how long I had delayed! 

Just as the old storyteller had described, before long we broke through the underbrush and onto a narrow track that wound through the woods. We arrived at the manor just as the sun was setting.

The Inu no Taishou’s manor was in the old style, a  _shinden-zukuri_  – a sprawling one-story building around a square courtyard, many large rooms joined by covered corridors. There were beautifully planned (if wildly overgrown) gardens with lakes and streams and arching bridges badly in need of paint; there was white sand peeking through a century of fallen leaves. It had an air of melancholy about it – it was a relic of a forgotten time.

Shippou and I entered at one of the low pavilions, but rather than turning to the main hall, we wended through silent, dilapidated hallways in search of the kitchens. I could sense two faint auras; Shippou’s nose confirmed that we were on the right track.  

We came at last to the manor’s kitchens, and my heart leaped into my throat. Mayumi and Katsura were facing the door, both in defensive postures – we had startled them. I stared for a moment in silence, unable to make a sound, and they too stood as though rooted to the floor. At last, tears began pouring out of my eyes, and before I could speak I found myself crushed against Mayumi’s bosom.

“Child, child,” she murmured, as Katsura lay a hand on my shoulder from behind her mate. “Where have you been, these years? We all feared you were dead, taking off like you did into the snow with no money – nor even a cloak to keep you warm!” I sobbed into her shoulder, unable to reply.

“She’s been with me,” a small voice said. Mayumi and Katsura withdrew, looking down at Shippou in amazement, while I attempted to collect myself.

“Mayumi, Katsura—this is Shippou,” I said with a game attempt at a smile.

“I adopted her,” he said seriously. “She’s my mother now.” I stared at him, shocked, but when he sent me an uncertain glance, I smiled in confirmation. Standing up taller and puffing himself up, he added, “I’ll protect her from anything!”

“I know you will, little warrior,” I said with a smile, ruffling his hair. His mother. My son. My beloved son.  

“Well!” Mayumi said, bustling about fetching bowls and spoons. “You must be ravenous – let me fetch you a bowl of Katsura’s rabbit soup, I know how you love that. Will you take tea, Kagome-sama?”

“Where is Sesshoumaru?” I asked softly.

Mayumi and Katsura exchanged glances.

“The young lord is indisposed,” Katsura said. “He won’t see a soul.”

“I heard about the fire,” I said, looking back and forth between her and Mayumi, who set a bowl of hot soup on the table and shepherded Shippou over to it. “I heard about his injuries. If he’s bound by a miko’s seal, I can undo it.” Desperation was welling up in my throat, and while I tried to keep it out of my voice, I could hear myself begging. “I don’t expect anything from him – I certainly don’t expect him to still want me. But I can help him heal.”

Again Mayumi and Katsura looked at each other, and again some silent communication passed between them. Katsura placed a delicate teacup and a pot of hot tea onto a tray and then placed it into my hands.

“I’ll show you the way,” she said gruffly. “But—don’t be too surprised by what you see, Kagome-sama. The young lord is not as he was.” I nodded mutely, and left Shippou in Mayumi’s care to follow Katsura down the dark hallways.

**

She slid a shoji door open for me and gestured inside, then vanished back toward the kitchen. There were lamps in the room burning low, and a brazier to keep it warm, but otherwise the room was practically bare – a low table, a few thin mats on the floor.

And by the table was Sesshoumaru, sitting cross-legged and waiting for his tea. He was wearing a white cotton kimono, its red print vaguely echoing the fine silk he had worn when I knew him; his left sleeve was knotted just below the shoulder. His eyes were bound with a strip of black silk. It was true; he was blind, and he had no aura.

“Katsura,” he said, his voice imperious as always. I nearly wept at the sweetness of the sound. But even as joy filled me, I was mindful of how much he had lost. He could not sense my aura, nor could he smell me; he could not ever hear that my footsteps were different than those of the tall inuyoukai I had left in the hallway.

I entered and set the tray down on the table before him, pouring his tea with trembling hands. The tea slopped across the tray, scalding my fingers. I drew a deep breath to try to steady myself. Now that I was here, I barely knew how to proceed. I set the cup before him, and he raised it and took a sip.

He cocked his head a bit when he set the cup down, and I remembered the expression well – testing the air, scenting it for anything unusual. The scowl that immediately creased his brow told me what I needed to know about his success.

“That is you, Katsura,” he said, his voice dark and snapping with irritation.

“Katsura is in the kitchen,” I said softly.

Before I knew what had happened, the world had upturned; I has pinned to the floor with a daiyoukai’s hand at my throat, strangling me.

“Be gone, demon,” he snarled. “You may take her voice to taunt me, but you will die at my claws for your insolence.”

My vision was going white; he would kill me if I didn’t act. With all my remaining strength, I raised a hand to his chest. Kikyou’s seal was just where it had been the night she tried to burn the shiro down. She was strong – the seal was tremendous! To keep in such power as Sesshoumaru’s was nearly unthinkable, and budging her will was like beating against a stone.

I had broken stones in my day, though. With a violent burst of my purity, I shattered the seal – there was a crack like a breaking tree, and blinding shards of purity scattered across the floor like diamonds. His aura roared up around us like a tidal wave, and he leaped back as though I had burned him.  

For a moment he simply knelt on the floor, breathing heavily. “What have you done?” he whispered at last, his voice raw.

“I have broken the seal that Kikyou put on you, my lord,” I answered matter-of-factly, sitting up and brushing off my hakama before settling myself again before him. “You should be able to smell me now, and sense my aura.”

“Who are you?” His words were harsh, but there was a desperate hunger on his face – I did not doubt myself any longer. He knew full well who I was.

“Do you not remember me, my lord?” I said with a smile. “Mayumi and Katsura did.”

“It is not possible,” he ground out. “You are dead.”

“I am not dead, my lord; I have been living with good people, and have had quite a comfortable life these last four years.”

He shook his head adamantly. “I have had such dreams before, and I have always awoken to find myself alone.”

I relented, and shifted myself to be nearer him. “I am no dream,” I said softly, catching his face between my hands and loosing my aura in full to twine with his.

“Kagome,” he groaned, catching me to him with his one good arm and burying his face in my neck. I twined my arms around him as he drank in deep pulls of my scent, holding me tight enough that I felt my ribs creak. “My Kagome,” he whispered against my skin, making me shiver and arch under him. “My sweet delusion.” He traced my neck with his tongue, and I whimpered.

I needed to get hold of myself. “Sesshoumaru-sama,” I whispered, guiding his face up and pressing my lips to his once, gently. “I am no delusion.” I kissed the crescent moon on his forehead, then each striped cheek. My hands found the knot of the bandage that covered his eyes. “May I?” I whispered.

He drew back, looking pained. “I am hideous,” he murmured.

I smiled; he was still the most beautiful being I had ever seen by anyone’s measure. “I very much doubt that, my lord. And I wish to see you as you are.”

“As I am,” he said softly. “Yes, that is what I’d wish her to say.” He smiled a little and shook his head. “Very well, my dream, go ahead.”

My fingers were clumsy and trembling, but in the end I managed it. The bandage fell away.

I did not gasp; I knew what I would see. Still, it broke my heart to see the deep gash across both of his amber eyes, still seething with remnants of Kikyou’s blade’s purity. As the purity ate at his flesh, his limited healing pressed back against it; he must have been in utter agony for four years, his eyes being actively devoured every day! I lay a hand against his scar, and he flinched back from me.

“I will remove the purity from the wound,” I murmured. “The pain this must have caused you!”

“No more than was my due,” he rumbled. “I have been a selfish, stupid whelp my entire life, and the way that I lied to you, the way I misled you—the way I drove you out to die in the cold, friendless and alone—no amount of pain is enough to atone.”

My heart melted. “You need atone no longer,” I said quietly, finishing my work and pressing a kiss to one scarred eye and then the other. “I forgive you.”

He clutched me against him again, and I buried my face in his shoulder. “Is it really you, miko?” he asked after a moment of silence. “Have you really returned?" 

“I have,” I said with a smile. “And I’ve brought with me my own fortune – I’m an independent woman now, I’ll have you know – and a kitsune kit I’ve adopted as my own son.”

“Money?” he said, sounding bewildered. “A kit? Well, it’s true enough that I’ve never imagined you telling me about that before.”

“Shippou is in the kitchen with Mayumi and Katsura – I’ll introduce you tomorrow. For tonight, though, I need to sleep. I’ve been traveling for days, and haven’t slept in a bed in far too long.”

“Will you leave me, then?” he whispered, something close to panic on his face. How I ached to reassure him! But no, I needed to remind him of his own capability, not to coddle and soothe him.

“Only for the night,” I answered cheerfully. “I’ll see you in the morning.” I leaned forward to kiss his cheek, and found myself caught up again by his strong arm. He pressed kisses to my brow, my cheeks, my lips, my jaw. I smiled, and disentangled myself from him. “Good night, my lord.”

“Kagome,” he called just as I reached the door. “I will see you tomorrow, will I not?”

“You will, my lord,” I answered with a smile. “I will not vanish in the night – you have my word.”

He nodded solemnly, and I left him there to his thoughts while I collected my kit and retired to the happiest dreams I had ever had. I was home. 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, that took long enough! As many of you gathered, I've had some substantial health problems, including major surgery. Doing great now, though, and I am incredibly grateful to all of you who've stuck around! Here endeth this little romp. Thank you so much for reading!

I rose early the next morning, stretching my muscles luxuriously. I couldn't remember the last time I'd slept so well. Shippou still dozed on a mattress laid out beside mine. My heart was so full I wanted to sing, to dance, to whirl in delirious circles until I fell on the ground. I had returned to my family.

 Even through my joy, though, I could not help but remember that there was a critically important member of the family missing. Shame burned in my stomach like an ember, tempering my happiness and demanding action. I rousted Shippou and shepherded him down to the kitchens for breakfast.

"Where is Rin?" I asked without preamble as Mayumi fussed over Shippou and set a cup of tea in front of me.

Again Mayumi and Katsura exchanged a glance. Mayumi huffed and turned to the stove, her back to me. Katsura sighed.

"Rin is with the young lord's mother," Katsura said.

"Sesshoumaru's mother lives?" I gasped. "He has never—"

"He does not speak of her often," Katsura agreed, dropping heavily onto a low stool next to me. "They fought bitterly when Inuyasha was born to the human princess. The young lord was ashamed of his sire – both for trysting with a human and for dying at a human's hands – where his dam was more understanding. There was no great love between her and her mate; she took lovers as often as he did, though she was more discreet. But she respected him tremendously – she was happy enough to see him tryst with a human woman. She could see how dearly he loved the lady, and it was no disrespect to their union, as they already had their heir."

"Is Rin safe with her?" I asked, and was immediately ashamed. I had abandoned Rin, and had no right to criticize what Sesshoumaru had decided for her. Rin would surely hate me, and was utterly right to.

Katsura lay a hand on my arm. "We would not have allowed her to go if she were not," she chided me gently. "Jaken-sama has gone with her to see to her comfort, and the lady is more than capable of providing for her. Jaken-sama has brought her to visit on a couple occasions, but the young lord's moods have been so black that the visits have been brief."

"Can you send to Jaken-sama?" I whispered, my voice cracking. "Can you have him bring her home – if she wishes it?" Shippou was watching me with serious eyes. I had told him about Rin, so he was expecting a human playmate, but he seemed wary of sharing me. “She has every right to hate me—”

Katsura tossed her head dismissively, as though shooing away a fly. “Sesshoumaru-sama is adamant that she not live here, for he knows that should an enemy seek to wound him through her again, he cannot protect her.”

"He can now," I said eagerly, turning my mind back to the matter at hand. "The seal is broken; even blind and one-armed, Sesshoumaru is the greatest warrior I've ever encountered."

"The lord has his senses back?" Mayumi gasped, whirling from her place at the stove. I nodded, a little taken aback. What was wrong?

"He certainly does," came a deep rumble from behind the door. And there was Sesshoumaru.

Mayumi and Katsura leapt in shock; his scent and aura were masterfully concealed. Katsura was on her feet before I could even turn to face him, and when I looked back, both were kneeling, their foreheads pressed to the ground. Shippou was staring at the Lord of the West with wide, frightened eyes. Sesshoumaru was dressed in a fine silk kimono, his sword belted to his side, and wearing his black boots again; he looked like himself, not the defeated stranger I had seen the night before. His eyes were no longer bound, and where a seething wound had been, only a pale scar remained. He still could not see, but I doubted that it pained him any longer.

"Rise," he rumbled, as gently as I'd ever heard him speak. They rose shakily to their feet, Mayumi wiping at her eyes. For a moment he faced them, and I thought I saw a flicker of frustration on his face – as though he ached to reach out to them, to wipe away Mayumi’s tears, to clap Katsura on the shoulder. He did not move, however, and for a moment he simply faced their direction as though he could see them.

"Today the sun rises after a long, long night," he said at last, turning to me. "You have not vanished in the night, miko."

I flushed, squirming. "No, my lord." I drew a deep breath, then let it out slowly, looking at the ground. "I am sorry," I said quietly, shooting a sideways glance at Mayumi and Katsura. "I regret the way that I left."

A heavy, clawed hand came to rest on my head; even blind, he had found me. "You left because I betrayed you, and because I confused and frightened you."

"I left because I was afraid, but I was afraid of my own heart and my own folly, not of you."

"I drove you away," he said, more insistent now. “I should not have lied to you, nor misled you about mating me.”

"I should not have abandoned you as I did," I said, choking on the words; tears were rising in my eyes. "I should not have abandoned you and Rin. I needed to know myself before I could choose to live my life beside you; I was a frightened child who needed to grow. But I should not have—"

"Shhh," he rumbled, drawing me into a one-armed embrace. I flushed hot, thinking how forward we were being in front of Mayumi and Katsura, and Shippou too! His grip was insistent as stone, though; I could not escape if I wanted to. And I did not want to. "Tell me, miko – if you left in search of your heart, does your return mean that you have found it?"

I squeezed my eyes shut and nodded into his shoulder. "I will never leave your side again," I whispered. A shudder wracked his big frame, and he lowered his head, breathing deep pulls of my scent, as his arm tightened convulsively around me. For a long moment we stood, entwined, in full view of the household.

At last, he withdrew from me and turned to Shippou. "Now, then. Who is this pup who dines at my table?" I let out a choke of laughter and held my arm out; Shippou scampered to my side and nestled into my embrace.

"This is my son, Shippou," I said proudly. Sesshoumaru sank to a crouch, his sightless eyes now even with Shippou's.

"Tell me, kit," he rumbled. "What is this woman to you?"

"She is my pack," Shippou said, and I could feel him tremble against me despite the defiance in his voice. "I have claimed her, and anyone who wants to hurt her will go through me."

Sesshoumaru nodded seriously; Shippou lowered his shoulders just a bit. "Tell me, young one, if I too wish to claim your mother as my pack, will you accept me as your alpha, or will you challenge me?"

I raised an eyebrow. "And do I not have any say in being claimed?"

Sesshoumaru scowled in my general direction. "Before I may court you, I need the permission of your pack," he growled.

Shippou pressed against me for a moment. "He’s right," he whispered. "It's tradition. But he's accepted that you and I are pack – which means that I can deny his suit on your behalf if you want me to."

"If I—" I looked around, bewildered, but Mayumi and Katsura seemed unfazed. Katsura nodded encouragingly to me. I was going to have to learn about pack dynamics rather quickly, it seemed. Shippou was looking up at me in concern, his green eyes wide. At last, not really sure what I was doing, I nodded to him. 

Shippou nodded back, looking relieved. He turned to Sesshoumaru again. "As Lord of the West, you are my alpha already," he said boldly. "I accept you – if my mother does." He frowned at Sesshoumaru, though, and added, "What is she to you?"

Sesshoumaru rocked back on his heels. "That is something she and I must discuss," he said cautiously. "She is not youkai, and her ... human sensibilities must be respected."

My eyebrows were at my hairline. Was this the imperious lord I had left behind me four years ago? Was this the man who spoke of claiming me with no regard for my own desires? Had he changed so much? A glance at Mayumi and Katsura gave me my answer: they were gaping at him in open astonishment.

Sesshoumaru stood and faced me. “We will discuss,” he rumbled softly, raising a hand tentatively in my direction. I caught his hand between both of my own, and he traced my arm up to cup my cheek. “And for once in my long life, I mean that we will truly discuss the matter. I hope that you will hear me, but when you speak, I will listen.”

My heart swelled in my chest, and I caught his hand and pressed a kiss to his palm.

“My lord,” I whispered. “Can we bring Rin home?”

He flinched back from me as though I’d struck him. “Rin,” he whispered. He closed his eyes tight as though sheltering them from a burning pain. I reached for him, crossing to him in a few steps and reaching his side as he collapsed onto a low chair. I knelt by his side and lay a hand over his, my reiki spiraling through him in search of illness or injury. I felt nothing out of the ordinary, and after a moment he drew his shaking hand from my grasp and raised it to his brow.

“Miko, your return has opened many wounds,” he murmured, his voice rasping. “But perhaps now that they are reopened, we can remove the source of the infection and they will heal cleanly this time.” He drew a trembling breath. “Mayumi, you have a cousin who lives not far from here, is that correct?” 

“Yes, my lord,” Mayumi answered, bowing. “Yuriko is a trustworthy and loyal subject of the West.”   
  
He nodded. “Send her to the House of Clouds to request that Rin and Jaken return.”

“Of course, my lord.” Mayumi had already turned toward the door. “While I am in Yuriko’s village, shall I fetch others to begin preparations for a visit from your lady mother?”

Sesshoumaru sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose – a gesture so achingly familiar that I felt tears gather in my eyes. “Yes, I suppose you might as well." 

Mayumi bowed, and was gone. Sesshoumaru turned to Katsura, who was already tying her sleeves back.

“I’ll do a basic sweep of the grounds, my lord, and begin preparations for meals. Once Mayumi returns with more help we’ll have everything ready in short order.”

Sesshoumaru nodded. “I know you will. Thank you, Katsura.” She bowed, and then she too vanished.

He rose from his seat, cautiously maintaining contact with the edges of the furniture.

“Kit, your mother and I must speak alone.” Shippou nodded, forgetting for the moment that Sesshoumaru could not see him, then sent me a serious look before returning into the castle.

Sesshoumaru held out an imperious hand to me, and I took it. “You will lead me to the gardens,” he said, his voice tinged with defiance. I could see, though, that behind the harshness of his words lay doubt, and fear. His injuries did not affect his abilities much – his heightened senses now to returned to him, his hearing and smell made him more acutely observant than any human would be – but his absolute confidence in himself was gone. He commanded me because he felt that he  _needed_  my help; he felt himself to be diminished, no longer the proud protector and mighty warrior. My heart ached for him.

I led him out into the sunshine, and settled us on a bench under a cherry tree. For a moment we sat in silence; the fall breeze was chilly, and the hair on my arms pricked up. I suppressed a shiver.

“We will go inside if you are cold,” he rumbled.

“I’m fine,” I said softly. “It’s lovely in the sunshine.”

He let out a soft grunt and tilted his face up so that the morning sun fell full upon it. I followed suit, closing my eyes to revel in the warmth on my cheeks.

“Miko,” he murmured at last. “Tell me of your travels.”

 Stumblingly, I began an account of my life in the village. As a healer, as a teacher—as a trusted community member, as a friend.

“Miko,” he interrupted only a few words in. “Begin from when we parted.”

I frowned. “It does no good to dwell on the past,” I said uncomfortably, glaring at a handful of leaves that chased each other across the courtyard in a gust of wind.

Sesshoumaru lifted my hand and drew it into his lap, clasping it in his own. “I must know,” he said softly. “You know what became of me, and what pain our parting has caused; I must know what my arrogance and deceit inflicted on you.”

“None of it was your fault,” I replied, scowling. “The fault was mine and mine alone; I was a fool, and a coward, and nearly dying wasn’t punishment enough – a hundred times over my meager suffering wouldn’t be enough to atone.”  
  
“‘Nearly dying,’” he rumbled, his hand tightening around mine. “You mentioned no ‘nearly dying’ before.” He drew a steadying breath. “Tell me.” His voice brooked no objections.

Reluctantly – and sparing the worst details – I told him of my journey from the House of the Moon to the village. Despite my abridgments, by the time I had finished his face was creased with fury and pain.

“I should have followed you,” he snarled. “I should have tracked you, and left a trail of skulls to warn other brigands. I should have—”

“—You should have left Mayumi and Katsura and Jaken and Rin to die at Kai’s claws?” I asked, clasping his hand between both of my own. “You should have abandoned your land to Kikyou’s mercies?” I shook my head adamantly. “You did the only thing you could do.”

“I was not there to protect you,” he murmured, forehead creasing in a desperate scowl.

“Because  _I abandoned you_ ,” I snapped, exasperated. “You are not to blame for any of this – only I am, and frankly at the time I was too stupid to fully understand the consequences of my long delay. Were I faced with the same choices now I would behave very differently.”

His face was composed again, though I could still see him actively controlling his features. My heart somersaulted in my chest. How well I knew him, even after so long! “Your heart has changed.”   
  
I shook my head adamantly. “My heart is the only thing that has not changed.”

For a moment he sat in silence. “Human lives are so short,” he murmured. “Four years to a youkai is nothing; a breath, a blink. Yet you – in four years you have become a new person.”   
  
“Not new,” I said, smiling. “I am still too wild for human company, too loud, too bold, too powerful even for holy monks to accept me. I merely know myself a bit better, and know better than to try to change.”

His sightless eyes narrowed. “You encountered holy monks in your travels.”   
  
I laughed. There was a tinge of jealousy in the question that frankly delighted me. “I did! A very fine holy man, Miroku. He trained me, opened up parts of my power that I didn't know I had.”   
  
“Show me.”   
  
I smiled, and on a whim, called up a glowing staff from my power. With all the practice Miroku and I had done together, manifesting my power physically had become as natural as breathing. 

Sesshoumaru's face showed no surprise, though his aura surged up around us, rising to meet my own. “What form does it take?” he asked at last, clearly reluctant to ask but too curious to be silent. “I can feel it, and can feel the ease with which you called it up and wield it, but ...”

“It is a staff,” I said, biting back a smile. The urge to bait him a little was irresistible. 

“The weapon of a holy warrior.”

“I choose its shape,” I said, trying to sound matter-of-fact. “I have wielded my power as a sword as well.”   
  
“A sword.” 

“Yes, my lord.” 

Why would an archer choose a staff, a sword? I could hear the questions burning in his heart, but I was enjoying my mischief.

At last, though, he abandoned his thought of the shape of my power without pursuing it further. “So, miko, you trained with this holy monk, and now manifest a holy weapon. He was an old man, you said?” 

“No,” I said, unable to keep from smiling now. “He was a young man, not much older than I.”  
  
“But dour and serious, as so many holy men are.”   
  
“Not at all; he was genial and kind, and quite flirtatious.”

“Flirtatious.” The word sounded like glass being ground underfoot.  

“Yes, indeed – his first words to me were asking if I would bear his children.”  
  
“You are mocking me,” he snarled, turning his face away. 

“I beg your pardon, my lord, but it is the literal truth.”

“From the first he wished to mate you.”  
  
“No, I think not – Shippou said he asked that of every pretty girl.”

His shoulders relaxed almost imperceptibly. “Then he was merely a cad, a harasser?”

I smiled at the memory. “He was a bit of a cad, I suppose,” I said fondly. “But he was also a dear friend.”

“He did not wish to marry you.”  
  
“He asked me to marry him.”

He turned to face me again, snarling. “You lie.” His head was inclined to me as though he were trying fruitlessly to see my face. My heart lurched in my chest – the time for teasing was over. 

“You know I'm telling the truth.” I smiled sadly at him, and cupped his cheek with my hand. “I refused him. He does not love me, and I do not love him.” I nestled into his shoulder, trying to reassure him with my nearness.  “He wanted me by him as a useful tool in a quest, not as a companion. He wanted my power, nothing more.” I kissed the underside of his jaw in supplication. He shuddered.  

“You have healed me, miko,” he said roughly, “and yet you remain. Tell me why you have returned.” 

I closed my eyes, resting my head on his shoulder. “I have returned because I wish to be by your side,” I murmured. “I wish to help you, as I may. I can tutor Rin, now that she is returning; we can take tea again as we used to.” 

He huffed softly. “Ever my ally.”

I smiled against him. “Always.”

For a moment we sat together, me sheltering in his one-armed embrace. At last, he sighed. 

“I do not want an ally,” he said quietly. “I do not want a priestess to heal me, or a friend to converse with about philosophy and art I can no longer see. And Rin no longer needs a tutor.” 

I nodded, my heart clenching in my chest. I knew that this was the most likely outcome of my return. For all his talk of pack, he had recognized that I would bring him only pain. He did not want me to stay. I withdrew from his shoulder. 

“I will go, then, my lord.”

One huge hand gripped me by the shoulder, hard enough to bruise. His face was intent, every fiber of his being focused on me. 

“You will stay.” He shook his head once, as though to clear it. “No. Miko—Kagome. Will you stay with me?”

“My lord?” I barely dared to breathe. “What do you wish of me?”   
  
“I wish you to be my mate,” he breathed at last. “I wish you to live by my side for unnamed centuries to come. To rule the West with me. To raise Rin and Shippou as siblings, and as sibling with our own pups.” His voice cracked. “Will you stay with me, little ally?” 

A dam broke in my heart. With a little cry, I threw myself at him, my arms twining around his neck as tears flowed freely from my eyes.  “Yes,” I gasped into his hair, hiccupping around my sobs. “Sesshoumaru—yes.”

His arm gathered me tight to him, and he buried his face in my neck, breathing deeply. “Kagome,” he murmured against my skin. “If this is a dream, I shall not survive waking from it.”

“It is no dream,” I whispered, pulling beck just far enough to look at his face. I brushed a few strands of hair off his brow, then leaned in to press my lips lightly to his. 

Before I could move, before I could think, the kiss had changed; demanding, insistent, unrelenting, he claimed me, body and soul. His fingers threaded through my hair, anchoring me to him as heat and need blossomed through my body.  _My mate_ , I thought.  _Mine. His. Together._  Tears began to flow from my eyes anew. 

When at last he drew back, panting, I took his face between my two hands. “Sesshoumaru,” I whispered. I lay a gentle kiss to his forehead, and then to each striped cheek. “I love you.”

With a groan, he hauled me back into a crushing embrace. I was truly home. 

***

Sesshoumaru's mother arrived the following day, landing in a ball of light in the center of the courtyard. Sesshoumaru, Shippou, and I were waiting in the courtyard; Sesshoumaru had sensed their coming. 

His mother was extraordinarily beautiful. Like her son, she had golden eyes, alabaster skin marked by a crescent moon on her forehead, and silver hair that flowed behind her like water. She bore a single stripe on each high cheekbone, rather than her son's double stripes, but even so the resemblance was astonishing. Traveling with her was a lanky child of about ten in an incongruously fine kimono, her black hair unruly despite the number of ornate combs that had clearly been put into it to try to tame it.

My heart was thundering in my chest so hard that it was a wonder if even Rin couldn't hear it. Without waiting for permission from Sesshoumaru, I stepped forward. 

“My lady,” I said softly, bowing to the demoness. “Welcome.” Without allowing myself a moment to hesitate, I turned to Rin and knelt before her, pressing my forehead to back of my hands on the gravel.

“Rin,” I choked out. “I do not deserve your forgiveness—”

My words were halted by little hands on my hair. I looked up to find Rin kneeling next to me. 

For a moment we simply looked at each other, and then Rin smiled her sunny smile at me. My heart broke, and tears slid down my cheek as I held out tentative arms out to her. She threw herself into them. I will not deny, reader, that I wept like a child, holding her close to me again at long, long last. 

“I'm sorry,” I whispered into her hair. “I'm so sorry I left you, Rin-chan. I'm sorry it took me so long to come back.”  
  
When she drew back from me, her eyes were sparkling with tears. “Kagome-sama,” she said with a little smile. “I missed you.”

I brushed her unruly hair out of her eyes. “I missed you too, sunshine,” I whispered. “So much.” I gave her a watery smile. “You've grown so tall! You're a proper lady now.”

She perked up like a flower watered after drought. “My lady has been teaching me,” she confided as she clambered to her feet. I rose as well, brushing debris from my red hakama. Shyly, she reached out and caught my hand in hers. “I knew you'd come back, Kagome-sama,” she whispered. 

I squeezed her hand. “I'm sorry you had to wait so long,” I said softly. “But if you will stay with us now, I give you my word – my solemn vow – that I will not leave again.” 

Rin bit her lip, hesitating, and her eyes slanted down to the ground. I felt a keen dart of sorrow; I had given her no reason to trust me. 

“You don't need to decide now," I added. She looked up at me, a little frown creasing her brow. "It is your decision, and you can take as much time as you need to make it. And even once your decision is made, no matter what your choice, you will always be welcome here.” She nodded shakily. 

Shippou had been hanging shyly back, but on seeing another child acting so familiarly with me, he approached and put an arm around my waist. I kissed the top of his head. 

“Rin-chan, this is my son, Shippou,” I started. “He lived with me while I was away.” I smiled at the green-eyed boy by my side. “Shippou-chan, I've told you all about Sesshoumaru-sama's daughter, Rin.” Shippou nodded silently. Rin started at my description; I knew that most called her his ward, but I thought that since the House of the Moon appeared to be entering an unprecedented era of truth and openness, why not call her what she obviously was? 

Throughout these interactions, a pair of implacable golden eyes had been trained on us. At last, Sesshoumaru's mother broke the silence. 

“Given the unusual circumstances, I will forgive this lapse of etiquette, human,” she started, her voice smooth as poisoned caramel. “But this is hardly the introduction I expected.” My face heated, and I turned from the children to bow low. 

She did not wait for me to speak. “I am InuKimi, Lady Mother of the West. Pup,” she continued, turning to Sesshoumaru, “you’re looking better than when last I saw you; I see you have found a way to rid yourself of the cursed seal.”

Sesshoumaru stepped up beside me and lay an unerring hand on my shoulder. 

“This is my chosen mate, the miko Kagome,” he declared in a ringing voice. “She freed me from the dark miko’s curse. The West will gain its strength from hers.”

Her beautiful face twisted for a moment, more wry than sour. “I had some idea that this day was coming, thanks to little Rin's effusive chatter about her beloved tutor. You are bold, my son – to choose a human so unhesitatingly. Even your father did not dare. Would you not consider mating a demon and keeping this one to bear your bastards somewhere out of sight?” 

My aura rose around me at the insult, but Sesshoumaru did not give me time to take any action. I blinked and the Lady Mother of the West was pinned to the gravel path by her furious son, his stripes jagged and fangs long. Even blind, even one-armed, Sesshoumaru's power and ferocity were undeniable. Powerful though she doubtless was, she was no match for him. 

“You will  _never_  disrespect my mate again,” he snarled, his claws tightening around his mother's throat. Seeming less surprised than merely weary, she canted her head to the side and bared her neck to him. 

Only barely mollified by her perfunctory gesture, he withdrew and stalked back to my side, while his mother collected herself, rose, and smoothed out the lines of her fine silk kimono. A few drops of blood stood like ruby beads against her neck. At long last, she turned to me. 

I stood ramrod-straight, meeting her eyes with equanimity. 

"What have you to say for yourself, human?” she asked, her tone bored but her eyes sharp as gemstones. “Do you intend to debase the West with this ridiculous match?”  
  
“I do not,” I said quietly. “I intend to strengthen it.” 

“Show her.” Sesshoumaru's rumble startled me. Show her? If I were to fully release my aura it would be a direct provocation; she would see it as an insult, as an attack. Now was surely not the time! 

“I can't release my aura here—” I started, but he shook his head impatiently. 

“Show her your weapon.”  
  
I considered, and in the end decided it would do no harm. Wordlessly I summoned up my bow and quiver and took aim for the distant sea – and an earth-shaking bolt of my purity split the heavens above us. On all sides, birds fled the trees, crying in terror and outrage, before silence settled over the forest again.

When I turned back to the demoness, her eyes were wide, her face pale, and she was gaping at the trail of blue sky my arrow had carved into the clouds above us. I had managed to shock her, after all.

“A staff, you said, or a sword,” Sesshoumaru murmured from my shoulder. 

“I never said that was all,” I answered primly. Then, with a shy smile, I added, “It looks just like the one you gave me.”

“Minx,” he rumbled, smiling despite himself.

“Well,” the demoness interrupted, ignoring our conversation. She still seemed rather shaken. “It seems that perhaps I underestimated you, human.” She shook her head. “I should have known that this hard-headed pup of mine would flout convention and bring scandal to our house,” she sighed. “But I suppose my objections will do no good.”

Sesshoumaru inclined his head regally, accepting her wary concession as the victory it was. “The West is pleased to welcome to the House of Chrysanthemums, honored Lady Mother,” he declared. Turning to Rin, he crouched and added softly, “Welcome home, daughter of the West.”  
  
With a strangled sob, Rin launched herself at him, throwing her arms around his neck. His one strong arm caught her in a tight embrace. _Home_ , I thought, my eyes filling with tears. I wrapped my arm around Shippou’s shoulder, and he leaned against me.

“My retinue will arrive within the day,” lady InuKimi said, her voice all business. “You will show me to my room, pup, and I will rest before the evening meal.”

Before Sesshoumaru could reply, Mayumi appeared as though by magic. With a bow, she escorted the Lady Mother into the shiro, leaving us outside to revel in our renewing bonds.

***

Reader, I mated him.

On a chilly winter morning, Sesshoumaru, Rin, Shippou, the Lady Mother, and I made our way back to the great magnolia Bokusenou. He greeted us with unreserved joy, his aura exploding up around him like a bonfire. My aura and Sesshoumaru’s roared up against his, fully unleashed, and with solemn joy he spoke a few strange words that blended them together. Never have I felt such dizzying intimacy; in that instant, Sesshoumaru’s soul and mine become one.

After the ceremony, as our auras retreated back into ourselves, I heard Bokusenou confide to the Lady Mother that despite my human lifespan, my power was so great that I could sustain Sesshoumaru for as long as he could sustain me; together we would live long, long lives, and he had not sacrificed a day for me. A knot I had never known was there unclenched in my heart. Perhaps, _perhaps_ I could dare to be happy without feeling myself to be too great a burden on the one I loved best.

Sesshoumaru’s mother stayed with us for six months or so to celebrate the beginning of our new life together as Lord and Lady of the West. As it turned out, she objected far less to me that she had originally let on, even before Bokusenou’s revelations. Her son’s happiness – and perhaps too my wild, ferocious spirit – had well convinced her of my suitability to be a demon-lord’s mate. Through her own stubbornness and power, she convinced her full retinue of some hundred demons to swear fealty to us as well. Mayumi and Katsura – and soon, Jaken – had done a near-miraculous job of returning the shiro to its former glory, and now beautifully-kept and full of well-wishers and loyal retainers, the palace bustled with life and joy.

At the end of the Lady Mother’s visit, Rin decided to stay with us, to our joy. She and I were gentle with each other for the first few months, our interactions tentative, but eventually her sunny, trusting disposition conquered her lingering hurt and disappointment. Before long, too, she and Shippou were inseparable, going out together into the forest to gather flowers, chasing each other in delirious races through the gardens, sitting together and poring over scrolls in their lessons. Shippou’s protective instincts kept Rin safer than any guard, and Sesshoumaru’s implicit trust meant the world to him. The day that Rin called me mother, I began to forgive myself for my foolishness.

A year or so into our lives together, it was my great joy to welcome Sango and her brother Kohaku to our shiro. To my astonishment and delight, Miroku was with them. Neither had had any luck on their respective quests until, at last, Sango had insisted on accompanying Miroku on his own journeys, since I would not. Together, they tracked the demon who had cursed Miroku and discovered that the self-same demon had made Kohaku his slave. They defeated him, and, Miroku’s curse lifted, he was free to confess his love for the beautiful taijiya. At my heartfelt congratulations, he confided softly that my refusal was the best thing that had ever happened to him. Sesshoumaru’s notorious reticence was less in evidence now that he relied so much on me to be his eyes; he was less peremptory, less imperious, and showed some part of his true self to my dear friends. Miroku he distrusted less now that he was committed to another woman, and Shippou’s delight at seeing them again tempered Rin’s shyness. It was a joyful reunion.

Sesshoumaru found them a position in a village at the nearest border of the Western lands; both of them happily agreed to protect its people from encroaching threats from the South. We would live within an easy enough distance that I could see them often. I could ask for no more. Inuyasha continued to patrol the border, and the three of them became fast friends, as I understand it.

As time passed, Sesshoumaru’s formidable youki and my healing sessions gradually coaxed his eyes to heal. On the day our eldest was born, Mayumi placed the screaming hanyou into his arms, and he was able to meet his daughter’s golden gaze with his own.

Decades have passed since then; Sango and Miroku have long since passed on to the next world. Rin mated a handsome young youkai; she conquered her fear of wolves, it seemed, as her mate is a member of the wolf-court of the North. Sesshoumaru and I shared our joy that we would not lose our beloved daughter to time as we lost my human friends.  

And now, reader, I close my tale, for my centuries with my wild beloved have only just begun, and I will not waste a single precious instant of it. In gratitude for the kindness fate has shown me – wild, friendless, unfit for my own species – I have vowed never to take a single moment of my blessed life for granted. May all of you find joy as profound.  

 

FIN

 

 


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